I Wanna Be Everything Except For Your Mistake
by Katertots
Summary: Steve nods and steps forward, offering her his hand. "Steve Rogers, ma'am." "Ma'am?" Darcy snorts, taking his hand and shaking it. "Oh, honey, no. That makes me feel ninety. Darcy is fine." He is positively adorable the way he bashfully looks down at his shoes, still holding her hand, color flushing over his face again. In which Darcy and Steve are neighbors.
1. Hello, Hello

Darcy loves New York City. She loves the lights, the noise, the crowds, museums, theaters, parks, restaurants, the fact that you can get delivery day or night, the history, the architecture, and even the weirdos she inevitably encounters on the subway. There isn't anything quite like New York City during the holidays, and she loves every second of the Big Apple in the autumn when the leaves bloom in all their vibrant, colorful glory and there is a chill in the air.

The only downside to living in New York City aside from the cost of living – heat waves. Damn it all, she hates heat waves with a fiery passion, and the concrete jungle is currently in the middle of one of the hottest summers on record.

She adjusts the straps of her camera bag and purse on her shoulder, feeling more beads of sweat slick down her back and between her boobs, making her t-shirt stick uncomfortably to her skin. Rounding the corner onto her street, she almost cries in relief when she sees her building. Darcy can practically hear the sweet, sweet siren song of air conditioning calling her name. Her phone rings and she grumbles before fishing it out of her pocket, her mood improving marginally when she sees Jane's name and face on the display.

"'Sup, genius?" Darcy greets. "Taking a break from science already? It's barely 4:00."

"It's too hot to think," Jane answers.

"Pfft. You work at Stark and it's probably a crisp 68 degrees inside. I don't want to hear it."

"I went out for food and I thought my insides were going to combust. I'm waiting on my body to regulate," Jane whines.

"Look, pal, I've been hoofing it for twenty blocks and I have sweat _everydamnwhere_. I most definitely win the 'who is more miserable in the heat' contest." Darcy starts up the steps to her building and notices that the front door is wide open. "Great," she mumbles. "Some dillhole left the front door open letting God knows who into my building. I hate this fucking city!"

Jane snorts. "No, you don't. I had to talk you out of getting the 'I heart NY' tattoo, remember?"

"Ugh, why do my drunken decisions always come back to haunt me? And anyway, I motherfucking _do_ hate this city today," she argues, trudging up the stairs towards her apartment.

"Speaking of drunk, do you want to go out tonight?" Jane asks.

"Are you _high, _Jane?" Darcy yelps, rolling her eyes even though her friend can't see. She fumbles through her purse until her fingers make purchase with her keys. "It's hotter than Satan's taint outside and the only thing I want to do is strip every last sweaty piece of clothing off of my body and lay buck ass naked directly in front of the AC vent with a cold beer in hand." Someone behind her laughs and her hand freezes on the doorknob. Darcy glances over her shoulder and sees two of the hottest men she's ever seen _in her whole entire life_ – and she's met Thor for Christ's sake – and a little part of her wants to die because she knows without a doubt her makeup has long since sweated off and she looks terrible. Her face flushes even hotter and she manages a half-hearted "Let me call you back" before she ends the call. She could very easily just duck into her apartment and meet the new neighbors later after she's showered and is wearing makeup again. But she's no coward and she really should try and scope out these guys to see if they're total freak shows or what. She turns slowly and folds her arms across her chest, mostly to cover up the sweat marks on her shirt.

"You paint quite the vivid picture," the dark-haired man grins.

The taller blond behind him looks a little embarrassed, if the blush blooming on his cheeks is any indication, but it's fucking cute regardless. Darcy pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and quirks up an eyebrow at both of them. Part of her wishes she could just stare at both men for a while because they are ridiculously attractive, but that would be creepy. The dark-haired man is smirking at her and she's sure that look has raked in a ton of ass over the years. "Yeah. You should hear my limericks," she deadpans. "I really get creative around St. Paddy's Day." He laughs again and she sees the corner of the other man's mouth tick up.

"You've got quite the neighbor, Steve," the man says, elbowing his friend in the ribs. "I'm James, by the way. My friends call me Bucky." He reaches his hand out to shake hers and winks.

Darcy takes his proffered hand and smirks back. "James."

"That hurts, doll," Bucky teases.

"You'll survive, I'm sure," Darcy counters drily. She looks to the taller man – Steve – and smiles politely. "So, you're my new neighbor?"

Steve nods and steps forward, offering her his hand. "Steve Rogers, ma'am."

"Ma'am?" Darcy snorts, taking his hand and shaking it. "Oh, honey, no. That makes me feel ninety. Darcy is fine." He is positively adorable the way he bashfully looks down at his shoes, still holding her hand, color flushing over his face again.

He clears his throat and meets her eyes, a soft smile playing over his lips. "Sorry. It's nice to meet you, Darcy…?"

"Lewis. It's nice to meet you, too, Steve Rogers." She laughs a little and gently pulls her hand away.

"And what about me?" Bucky asks, a knowing smirk on his face.

Darcy jerks her head in his direction. "Well, Ace, unlike you, Steve here hasn't spent the last five minutes staring at my tits."

Steve chokes a little and starts to cough, whereas Bucky just chuckles and holds up his hands with a completely rakish grin on his handsome face. "Guilty. I'm sorry. They're just…really great," he sighs reverently, chancing one more look at her chest before pasting on his best smile and meeting her eyes.

Darcy shrugs, not the least bit offended. "I know. I'm just busting your balls, guy. Anyway, I'm gonna go—"

"Get naked," Bucky supplies with an approving nod.

"I've had enough of you," Darcy clips, jabbing a finger at him. "You," she points to Steve and she kind of wants to laugh at the owlish look on his face. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

Steve lifts a hand and manages to spit out, "Thanks!" She grins and slips into her apartment, winking at Steve before closing the door.

Darcy leans back against her door, unable to stop the stupid smile that stretches across her lips. "Well, well, well," she mutters before dropping her bags and peeling off her shirt, sighing in relief as the air conditioning works its magic. She picks up her phone and fires off a quick text to Jane. _OMG U will not believe how HOT my new neighbor is!_

…

Bucky follows Steve into the apartment and blows out a low whistle. "I'm so jealous of you right now. Please let me live here!"

Steve shakes his head and grins. "You are such a shameless jerk sometimes." His dog, Sarge, a three year old Border Collie barks his welcome and scrambles as fast as his legs will carry him across the hardwood floors to jump on Steve. "Hi, boy," he greets, giving him a hearty stroke of the fur on his black and white head. "Down," he orders, snapping his fingers. Sarge obeys and runs off toward his dog bed under the window.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice how gorgeous that dame is, Rogers. If you say no, you're a damn liar."

"I noticed," Steve answers, grabbing two bottles of water from the refrigerator and tossing one to his friend. Boy, had he ever noticed all that dark hair, those big blue eyes, full lips, and curves for days. "I'm smart enough not to get caught."

Bucky twists the cap off and drains half the bottle. "I couldn't help it. I just want to rest my head on those magnificent puppies. Christ Almighty."

Steve rolls his eyes, but laughs at his friend anyway. "Yes, I'm sure that's all you'd like to do."

"If you're smart, you'll make a move on that girl," Bucky informs him.

"C'mon, Bucky, I don't even know anything about her. A girl that pretty probably already has a boyfriend."

"Blah, blah, blah. I'm just hearing excuses. She's completely your type – brunette and curvy." He glances down at his phone and reads a new text message. "Hey, Steve, can I be released from move-in duty? Tasha's back from a mission and is requesting my services," Bucky says, wagging his brows.

"Requesting or ordering?" Steve laughs, knowing that Natasha Romanoff rarely asks for _anything_ nicely.

"Ordering. Makes it even hotter. Gotta run, Cap."

Steve chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. "Sure thing – beat it, pal. Thanks for your help today."

"Anytime. Enjoy your new digs and that beautiful neighbor with the huge—"

"Bucky…" Steve warns.

Laughing, he flicks Steve a quick salute and hurries out the door.

Steve drinks the rest of his water and pours some food in a bowl for Sarge. The dog comes running and pants appreciatively at Steve's feet, thumping his tail on the floor the same way he has every day for the last three years. "There you go, Sarge." He reaches down and scratches Sarge behind the ears. "Welcome to your new home, buddy." The dog licks Steve's hand once and then proceeds to inhale his food.

He looks around his apartment and feels the corners of his mouth upturn. It feels good to be in a new space – _his space. _His and his alone, away from the prying eyes of SHIELD and the apartment they'd set up for him when he first rejoined the world. Steve knows he'll never be fully free of SHIELD, but this new place at least gives him a semblance of freedom.

Grabbing his sketch book, he sits down on his brand new couch and starts a rough outline of a pretty brunette with humor in her eyes and full lips twisted into a smirk.


	2. Black Dog

Steve wakes up early the next day, like he does nearly every morning, and he and Sarge go for a long run before the heat becomes too unbearable. He's not much for the cold any longer, but even he has to admit that this heat wave is oppressive; he hopes it ends soon. Once they've finished their five miles, he and Sarge jog back up the stairs of the apartment and Steve spares a quick glance at Darcy's door. He wonders in amusement what kind of colorful tirade she might work up about the heat today before letting himself into his apartment.

After breakfast, he decides to go out and buy some paint for his apartment. He hadn't bothered doing any kind of decorating to his last place, not feeling comfortable since it was S.H.I.E.L.D. issue and he'd had too much else to adjust to and worry about rather than what his apartment looked like. This new place is entirely his and he wants it to feel like a home.

He pulls on a faded ball cap and sunglasses before leaving. His true identity is a well-protected secret, but he feels a little safer with a hat on, just in case. Two women pushing baby strollers are walking opposite his direction on the sidewalk and he's not blind to the way their eyes look him over as they get closer. Steve tucks his hands into his pockets and gives them a polite nod as he passes. He's not deaf, either, and some of the things they say about his appearance when they think he's safely out of earshot are rather suggestive. Bucky would tell him it's a compliment and to just enjoy it. That kind of attention from women still unnerves him sometimes and he's pretty certain that it always will, to some degree.

Once he's at the hardware store, he makes his way to the paint department and quickly deduces that this trip is going to take longer than he'd hoped. There are at least ten different displays each with hundreds of paint colors to choose from. Granted he's never shopped for paint before in his life, but he knows for certain that there weren't this many choices back when he was a kid.

He picks up a few of the little cards in the neutral family and looks back and forth between two that he likes, deciding that there really isn't much of a difference as far as he can see. All he wants is some tan paint for the walls in his living room and some dark gray paint for his bedroom. There aren't any colors just _called_ tan or gray though. No, they all have names like _Nomadic Desert_ and _Baby Turtle,_ which is plain silly to him. He must look as lost as he feels, because a clerk finally takes pity on him and comes over to help. After that, the rest of his visit goes smoothly and soon he's on his way home loaded down with all of the supplies he needs to spruce up his place.

…

Sarge barks happily as soon as Steve opens the door and runs circles around his legs. Recognizing the dog's tell for wanting to go out, he puts down his supplies and clips on Sarge's leash. They're barely out the front door when Sarge plows right into a woman and knocks her flat on her backside.

"Sarge, no!" he orders.

Darcy's pretty pissed at first when she gets mowed over and the venti frappucino she just bought goes flying out of her hands and splatters all over the sidewalk. But she's a sucker for dogs and gorgeous guys, so when she realizes this friendly and adorable dog belongs to her hot as fuck neighbor, she gets over being knocked down pretty quickly.

"Darcy! God, I am so sorry!" Steve apologizes profusely, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them into the collar of his t-shirt. She completely takes him by surprise when she throws her head back and laughs uproariously when Sarge licks her face. She has a great laugh and it makes him smile.

"Well, hello there, handsome," she coos, pushing her sunglasses up. Steve feels his ears redden when he quickly realizes she's talking to Sarge and not to him.

"Hey," she beams up at him, still ruffling the dog's head and trying not to pant after his owner. "I didn't know you had a dog."

"Yeah. I'm really sorry about that," he apologizes again. He feels like a total heel. "Sarge, come on, leave Darcy alone," he says sharply, kneeling down so he and Darcy are eye level. She looks really pretty like this, her brown hair curling wildly around her face and her blue eyes shining in the sun. He also can't get over how full and pink her lips are.

"Sarge? Is that your name? Who's a good boy?" she asks the dog sweetly, making him wiggle excitedly. Darcy laughs when Sarge licks her nose again.

Steve's lips quirk up at the sound. It's a _really_ good laugh, he thinks. "You sure you're not hurt?" he asks, concerned.

"No, no, I'm fine. My caffeine fix was the only casualty," she tells him, pointing to the now empty cup on the ground.

Steve frowns at the spilled beverage and then turns apologetic eyes back to her. "Sorry. Please let me buy you a new one to make up for it," he insists, standing up and offering her his hands.

She takes his hands and he effortlessly lifts her to her feet. Steve smiles at her, and _Christ_, he's cute. He has one of the best smiles she's ever seen. "Normally I'd say that's not necessary, but I have a crap ton of editing to do today and I really need my caffeine or I'll go insane."

He laughs softly and gestures with his hand. "Lead the way."

The dog jumps up on her again as she puts her sunglasses back on and puts his nose right between her legs. "You naughty boy," she scolds laughingly, gently nudging him away. "I didn't even get dinner first!" Steve's face is slightly horrified and there is that blush creeping in _again_. She's never really found that sort of thing attractive before, but on this guy…well, it really works.

"I'm so sorry, Darcy. I don't know what his problem is today," he apologizes again. He wonders if he's always going to be embarrassed around her. It's annoying.

"Don't sweat it. Dogs just know good people when they see them," she teases. "Don't you, boy?" Sarge barks once and wags his tail. Darcy giggles and pats him on the head.

Steve gives her a thoughtful smile and nods. "Yes, they do."

"Okay, let's go before I melt down into the sidewalk like my frapp."

He and Sarge follow, letting her set the pace of their walk to the coffee shop. "You said you have to edit today. Are you a writer?" Steve asks as they wait to cross an intersection.

Darcy tilts her head to look up at him since he's so much taller than she is. "Hmm, no. I love words and I'm a great reader of them, but not writing my own. I'm a photographer actually; or a wannabe one anyway," she answers.

"Did you always know you wanted to do that?"

"Ha!" she barks. "If you only knew how many changes of heart I had before winding up here," Darcy muses, casting him a sideways glance as they cross the street. "But that is a very long story for another day. I guess you could say that photography has always been an interest, yes." She lifts the hair up off her neck and pulls it back into a messy ponytail.

"You—how do girls always do that?" he inquires, gesturing to her hair. "Just magically put your hair up like that no matter where you are."

"Well, if I revealed our girly secrets, I'd have to kill you," she deadpans, making him laugh. "So, what about you, Steve Rogers? What do you do besides obviously spending a lot of time in the gym?" She grins, thoroughly enjoying the flush of color staining his cheeks.

"I was in the Army for a while and now I specialize in security." It's a pat and practiced answer, but it's the only one he can give that is technically not a lie. He hates lying, but he obviously can't say 'I'm Captain America' without giving himself away or looking like a crazy person.

"Very cryptic," she says before lowering her voice. "Is that top secret?" she asks in a loud whisper.

"Extremely," he answers in his deep and serious voice. "If I told you I'd have to kill you." He gives her a lopsided grin and she laughs again and nudges him with her arm.

"And he makes jokes, too," she smiles. She stops in front of the coffee shop and tips her head toward the sign. "Here we are."

"Do you mind holding Sarge's leash?"

"Not at all," she grins. "Gimme!"

"What can I get you?" he asks as he hands over the leash.

"A venti light caramel frapp no whip, please."

He repeats the order under his breath and taps his temple. "Got it. I'll be right back."

Darcy watches his retreating form and blows out a slow breath. "How come your daddy's so good looking?" she asks Sarge, squatting down to pet the dog. "Huh? How is that?" The dog sits up on his back legs and puts his front paws on her legs. "You are such a sweetheart, buddy."

Okay, she's not going to fall for her neighbor. She's _not. _No matter how good looking he is (and it's truly _mind-blowing_), or how sweet he appears to be (the blushing is a dead giveaway), it's never a good idea to venture down that road with a guy who lives across the hall. Life has a funny way of making things go ass up in a hurry and she doesn't want to wind up living in an awkward as hell situation. She loves her apartment and she doesn't want to have to move. Jesus, she's getting way ahead of herself.

They can be friends; she could use a few more of those, honestly. But, she's going to keep the drooling over his looks to herself. And probably Jane.

Steve watches her through the window while he waits in line. She's playing with Sarge and laughing and—it's a really great scene. Darcy, with her pretty face, and his beloved dog. His fingers are already itching to sketch it. It's not smart to have a crush on her and he's afraid he might already have a bit of one. He just moved in and he doesn't want to have things become weird. Hell, she could have a boyfriend for all he knows, and he feels the corners of his mouth turn down at the thought. He enjoys talking to her and he hopes they can do more of that. It really would be nice to have a friend that doesn't know anything about him being Captain America.

He orders and pays for her drink, smiling at the barista and nodding his thanks before walking out of the store. Darcy sees him and smiles as he approaches. "He really likes you," Steve grins, holding the drink out for her.

"The feeling is very mutual," Darcy tells him, nuzzling the dog once before standing up. She takes the drink from his hand and takes a sip. "Thank you. You really didn't have to—"

"I really did," he insists, cutting her off. "And you're very welcome."

"As nice as this is, it is _scorching_ out here and my pictures aren't going to edit themselves. Unfortunately," she adds, taking another drink.

"Of course, yeah, we should get back," he agrees. "I've got several walls to paint today."

"Let's go, neighbor," she smirks, gripping the dog's leash a little tighter. "Come on, Sarge!"

Steve had planned on taking that back from her, but she's already ten steps ahead of him. He laughs under his breath and jogs to catch up.


	3. Drink In My Hand

Darcy's completely _swamped_ for the next couple of weeks shooting and editing her ass off. It feels like she has approximately eleventy-billion photos to work through. She shot a couple of things for a little indie magazine in Brooklyn that paid her next to nothing, and a wedding that could not have gone any better and paid next month's rent. Weddings aren't what she really wants to focus on as a photographer, but those sessions give her a lot of experience and exposure, so she does them without complaint. Plus she needs money to keep a roof over head while she works on her portfolio so she can have a show someday. So, between those paying gigs and a few shifts a week slinging booze at The Alley Cat, she manages to be fairly comfortable most months rather than barely scraping by.

Her schedule is all over the place, but she likes it that way and she's infinitely happy that she doesn't have to work a desk job nine to five Monday through Friday. After everything that happened in New Mexico a few years ago, she'd been offered a job working with Jane at S.H.I.E.L.D., and she'd given it a great deal of consideration. In the end, she'd turned it down. No matter how much respect she had for science, it wasn't her passion—political or otherwise. She'd packed up her life, moved to the Big Apple, and hasn't looked back since. Besides, Jane left S.H.I.E.L.D. to work for Stark Industries not long after all the shit went down in the city with Loki and his army of _whateverthefuck_ those things were anyway, so she still gets to see her friend whenever their schedules will allow it.

She works on the wedding photos until her eyes start to burn. They are turning out great, though, if she does say so herself. Looking at the clock, she sees that she's been at this for hours already and while she's managed to make a decent dent, she's quite a long way from finished. Stretching her arms overhead, Darcy rolls her head slowly from side to side and pushes up from her office chair to pad around her apartment.

Realizing that she hasn't talked to Jane in a couple of days, she wonders if the new assistant is taking good care her. She tries to call and gets Jane's voicemail. "Hello? Is this thing on? I'm trying to reach my totally brilliant yet absolute shit at taking care of herself best friend Jane. I hope you're eating something right now. If you're not, please go eat something right now that resembles an actual meal. And, you know, maybe get some sleep. After that, call me. Oh, and this is Darcy in case you forgot what my voice sounds like. D-A-R-C-Y. Bye!" Darcy ends the call and laughs, knowing that Jane will inevitably roll her eyes when she listens to that obnoxious message. But in all honesty, she should just be used to them by now.

Fatigue sets in and she decides to grab the most powerful of all power naps before her shift at the bar.

* * *

Steve doesn't want to say that he's _bored, _necessarily, but he doesn't really have a whole lot going on right now. His job has been pretty quiet lately as he and the rest of the Avengers haven't had to suit up to fight for almost a year now. Captain America, on the other hand, still suits up plenty, doing photo ops around the city and helping with any outstanding projects that remain to repair the destruction Loki caused.

There are still threats to be monitored, but the alert level is low, so there isn't much for him to do at the office these days. Of course the absolute last thing he wants is for some other super villain or supernatural creature to attack _anything_, but he's starting to feel a bit cagey and wishes he had something else to do besides be the face of the team and make appearances. He got his fill of that during WWII.

He spends most of the day doing a press tour and attending three different ribbon cutting ceremonies. Like the good soldier he is, he smiles and says all the right things, making audiences fall in love with him, just the way Pepper and the agency's publicist had instructed him to. By the time he's finished with all of his obligations for the day, he's in a foul mood. He manages to burn off some of that by destroying a few punching bags before heading home.

Bucky sends him a text message asking if he wants to go out tonight to shoot some pool and drink a few beers. Steve doesn't particularly want to – the beers won't do anything for him anyway – but he is a little tired of staying home all the time. He texts back a noncommittal _maybe _and that he'll call him in a bit before shoving the phone back into his pocket.

The little park close to his apartment building is packed with kids playing baseball and adults gathered around to watch. It's a far cry from the stick ball games that used to break out in his neighborhood when he was a kid, but it's nice seeing parents jump up excitedly to cheer for their children. There's a loud crack of a bat and one side goes crazy clapping and yelling. An announcer's voice shouts "Homerun!" and Steve doesn't try to stop the smile that tugs at his lips.

* * *

By the time he reaches his building, his mood has greatly improved. He climbs the last few steps to his floor and sees Darcy coming out of her apartment. They haven't seen each other since that day they walked to the coffee shop and seeing her now wipes out the rest of his bad mood. "Darcy, hey," he greets. Darcy turns her head and smiles brightly at him. She looks and smells really pretty tonight—more dolled up than he's seen her before, with her eyes shadowed and her lips stained cherry red. Her hair is down and a wild tumble of soft curls and the low cut black t-shirt she's wearing really accentuates her…_God._ He wonders if he's ever going to be able to just see her without waxing poetic about her looks in his head.

"Hey yourself, neighbor," she replies, happy to see him again. "How are you? More importantly, how's my love Sarge doing?"

They share a laugh and the sound echoes off the walls in the hallway. "Well, he says he misses you, but other than that he's good."

"And what about you?" she asks again, taking in his disheveled appearance. He's wearing sweaty workout clothes (hello!), but eyes seem kind of sad. "Rough day?"

Steve opens his mouth to automatically answer 'no', but he presses his lips together into a thin line and nods, running a hand over his jaw. "Yeah, it kind of was," he answers truthfully.

"Well, if you need a drink or an ear to bend, I'm bartending tonight at The Alley Cat. First drink's on me," she tells him with a little smile.

Her offer takes him by surprise, but it's a pleasant one. "That's—really nice of you, Darcy. Maybe I will take you up on that."

She shrugs and smiles at him again. "I'm a good neighbor," she teases. Glancing down at her watch, she bites out a curse and hitches her bag higher on her shoulder, jerking her thumb towards the stairs. "I've gotta run. See you later maybe?" Darcy doesn't wait for his answer before hurrying down the stairs, waggling her fingers at him in her haste. "Give my love to Sarge," she yells laughingly.

He fishes out his phone and tells Bucky to meet him at The Alley Cat in an hour.

* * *

There's a good crowd at the bar tonight and an excellent playlist on the jukebox, both of which make Darcy very happy. On occasion the bar becomes infested with hipsters wearing slouchy knit hats despite the heat outside who order PBR like it's craft beer and talk about ridiculous things that she cannot be fucked to give a single damn about. She sees not a single hipster in sight, so she's banking on it being a good evening. Her favorite co-worker, Ben, is also working behind the bar tonight, so she's guaranteed some laughs.

A couple of guys in the happy hour crowd who've been openly staring at her boobs since they sat down finally settle their tab and they each leave her a twenty for a tip. She waves the bills at Ben before grabbing her boobs and smiling down at them. "Thank you again, ladies." He chuckles and gives her a high five on his way to get another case of Sam Adams from downstairs.

Two women who are dressed like they're only at the Alley Cat for pre-club cocktails slip onto the vacated barstools. "Hi, what can I get you?"

* * *

Steve gets to the bar before Bucky and decides to go in and find a seat rather than wait outside for him to arrive. Bucky's habitually late to places anyway. He walks inside The Alley Cat and quickly surveys the room. It's mid-size for a bar, he supposes, and while it's not packed, there aren't many seats remaining. There isn't necessarily a theme to this place like some other bars he's been in—unless that theme is chaos. Sports and movie posters hang on the walls among neon signs, framed comic books, newspaper clippings, and an enormous deer head. He spots Darcy behind the bar with a drink shaker in her hand, laughing and chatting with two women. Two seats near the end of the bar open up, so he grabs those before someone else sits down. He knows he won't be able to talk to her if he sits elsewhere. Picking up a menu, he flips through it and steals glances at Darcy while she fills drink orders and sings along to the vaguely familiar song on the jukebox.

She spots him and her lips curve slowly into a smile. Like every other time she's seen him, he looks amazing. The navy blue polo shirt he's wearing is really working for his arms and shoulders, but she's pretty sure he couldn't look bad if he tried. And no, she's not crushing on him, but she does have working eyes and they can appreciate the hell out of him, okay?

"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns…" she teases when she finally gets to him and places a coaster down on the bar. "Hi."

His face cracks into a grin. "Casablanca reference…very nice."

"Movie quotes for the win," she smirks, holding her hand up for a high five.

It makes him laugh and he slaps his palm against hers. He is well used to this kind of gesture now; Tony's very big on them.

"I was hoping I'd see you in here tonight," she says.

"It was a good invitation," he replies honestly, which earns him another smile. He finds he rather likes making her smile.

"What can I get ya? First drink is on me, remember?"

"A beer would be great, thank you. Surprise me."

"You got it." She grabs a pilsner glass and turns to fill it from one of the many taps along the back. Darcy finishes the drink off by dropping a lemon into the glass and sets it in front of him. He arches his brow skeptically at her and she says, "Trust me. It makes Summer Shandy taste even better. A little alcoholic slice of summer."

He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a long pull from it. "You're right. S'good."

"Enjoy. I'll check on you in a bit." She raps her knuckles twice on the bar and walks away.

A hand claps him on the shoulder and Bucky slides into the seat next to him. "Hey, punk!"

"Jerk," Steve smirks, raising his glass to Bucky before taking another sip.

"Christ, Steve, is that a lemon in your drink? What the hell?"

Steve shrugs carelessly. "Darcy recommended it. It's good."

"Darcy?" Bucky asks, his brows shooting up. "Neighbor Darcy with the killer rack?"

He gives him a disapproving frown. "Bucky—"

"Oh, god…fine! Spoilsport," Bucky rolls his eyes. "She here?"

Steve points in her direction and Bucky turns to see. Bucky blows out a low whistle. "Rogers, you sly devil. No wonder you wanted to come here. Christ, she's sexy."

Steve doesn't argue a, because it's true, and b, arguing only fuels the fire and he really doesn't want to deal with that right now. He just takes another drink of his beer.

"Excuse me, bartender!" Bucky calls loudly, resting his elbows on the bar.

Darcy angles her head in the middle of filling a beer to see who bellowed for her and rolls her eyes when she sees Steve's friend grinning lecherously at her. She fills the rest of the order and wipes down the bar, making her way back in their direction.

"Is it riff-raff hour already?" she asks, glancing at her watch.

Bucky laughs and rests his chin on his fist. "You missed me, doll, it's okay to admit it."

Darcy crosses her arms and rolls her eyes at Steve, who looks apologetic on behalf of his friend. "Can't you read?" Darcy asks, pointing to the neon sign on the wall behind her that says NO DOUCHEBAGS.

Steve snorts out a laugh and Bucky gives him an unimpressed look and calls him a traitor. "Rude," Bucky laughs. "S'kinda hot."

"Do you want a drink or not, Bucky? I'm busy here," Darcy asks.

His answering grin is slow and completely incorrigible. "I knew you liked me. I'll have a beer, Darcy. One preferably without fruit in it," he winks.

Darcy sighs and knows just which beer to get for him. "Coming right up," she bites out before walking away.

Steve just shakes his head when his friend smirks at him. "You're an asshole," Steve tells him laughingly. Bucky shrugs and turns to watch Darcy pour his beer.

She returns quickly with a glass of dark beer that she sets down on the bar a little harder than is necessary. "There you are, Bucky. One Arrogant Bastard for you." She flashes a winning smile and shoots Steve a playful wink.

Steve slaps his hands on the bar and barks out a laugh. Bucky laughs, too, and toasts her with his beer. "Well played, Darcy."

"I'm here all week," she quips. "Can I get you guys anything else?"

"I'll have another one," Steve tells her.

"Comin' right up. As for you," she grouses, snapping her fingers in front of Bucky's face, drawing his eyes up to meet hers. "If you're gonna sit here all night starin' at the ladies and being an asshole, I expect a huge tip. Understood?"

Bucky reaches for his wallet and slaps two twenties on the bar. "Worth every penny."

Darcy palms the money and tucks it into her apron. "Great. We understand each other." She refills Steve glass and sets it down in front of him. "You might want to get better friends," she stage whispers.

Steve grins and plays along. "Can't shake him," he whispers back.

"You guys are mean," Bucky whines.

"You deserve it." The TV on in the bar catches Darcy's eye and she stops moving, staring intently at the screen.

"Hello? Where'd you go?" Bucky calls, waving his hand in front of her face.

She waves him off. "Shhh! My boyfriend is on TV!"

Steve and Bucky both snap their heads around quickly to see who she's talking about. Bucky immediately bursts out laughing and Steve feels his face burn hot when he sees himself, well Captain America, on Letterman.

"Sweet on ol' Cap are ya, Darcy?" Bucky asks, still laughing.

Steve nervously scrubs a hand over his face then reaches for his beer, trying to appear nonchalant. He finds himself watching Darcy's face with more interest than he probably should.

She doesn't take her eyes off the television but lets out a little moan and tucks a corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. "Please. I'd climb that star spangled sex god like a tree and never let go. Seriously."

Bucky doubles over laughing and Steve chokes on his beer.

"Fuck," she mutters. "Sorry, I'm inappropriate a lot," she apologizes, tearing her eyes away from the television to smile at them.

"I think you're just exactly right, Darcy," Bucky tells her, biting back more laughter. "Don't you think so, Steve?"

Steve shoots daggers at Bucky and kicks him as hard as he can. His face is still red, he knows, and he is having a hard time looking at Darcy right now because he knows it'll only get worse.

"Anyway, thirsty customers await my excellent service. Flag me down if you need anything else," she smiles before walking away.

Steve holds up a hand when Bucky starts to open his mouth. "Bucky…just don't!"

Bucky claps him hard on the back and laughs hysterically.


	4. Sunny Sunday

Darcy chooses a table outside for her Sunday brunch date with Jane. The heat wave mercifully fucked off and the weather in the city has been absolutely perfect for the last few days. Jane is predictably running late and Darcy assumes science is the reason. Science is always the reason. Well, unless Thor is on the planet, and then the reason is sex.

Sipping her mimosa, she people watches behind the safety of her sunglasses and spies a little dog bakery across the street called Three Dog Barkery. She decides to stop in after brunch to buy a treat for Sarge because she misses that energetic ball of fur. Her phone buzzes on the table and she sees a new text from Jane saying she's running late but she should be there in ten minutes. Darcy knows that means at least twenty, so she opens up her picture folder and scrolls through the recent ones she snapped on her phone. She laughs at a few that she took of Steve and Bucky from the bar the other night once the crowd died down and she had more time to talk to them.

They're good guys, she thinks, even if Bucky is a huge pain in the ass. He's hilariously inappropriate like she is and it is pretty fun to butt heads with him. Steve is just sweet and it kind of throws her for a loop just how _nice_ he is because in her experience most gorgeous guys are dickheads. Part of her is dying to photograph the both of them. They're so attractive it's stupid and she knows they would look amazing through the lens. That's her professional opinion, anyway. Her personal opinion is that she likes having guy friends and she's pretty sure these two are her friends, or at least very close to it.

Darcy spends the rest of the time catching up on e-mail. She hears her name and looks up from her phone to see Jane walking towards the table. "Hi," Jane cheerfully greets. She leans down to give Darcy a hug before taking the seat across from her. "Sorry I'm late; I was just working on some data for—"

"Jane," Darcy interrupts. "It's Sunday. The day of rest."

"Science doesn't take breaks, Darcy," Jane says solemnly and both girls crack up laughing at that.

Jane picks up a menu and Darcy snarks, "They don't have Pop-Tarts, Jane. Already looked."

"Har har," Jane retorts, pulling a silly face.

After they order, Darcy asks Jane about work and tries very hard to focus on all of the science jargon flowing freely out of Jane's mouth. This is the exact reason she had turned down the job to work for Jane in New York. It's not that Darcy doesn't care about it, but so much of it goes way over her head and it's just not for her thing.

"Let me see if I have this straight," Darcy begins after Jane finishes speaking, "you and the rest of the brilliant scientists spend your days being brilliant and brilliantly calculating your brilliant data to brilliantly revolutionize the world of science!" She smirks and takes a huge bite of her strawberries and cream cheese French toast.

"I almost forgot what a smartass you are," Jane laughs, taking a sip from her glass. "Sorry, I was too technical again, wasn't I?"

Darcy holds up her thumb and forefinger. "Just a tad. How is your new assistant? I'm sure he's not as great as I was, but who is, honestly?"

"He's driving me insane! He brought me a salad the other day right as I was about to finish analyzing some data."

"That monster!" Darcy gasps in mock horror. "Has he not learned that sugar pushes you over the edge of brilliant to super brilliant? Should we put the police on this? I say we lock him up and throw away the key." She shakes her fist for emphasis.

Jane rolls her eyes. "I know, I know. I need to eat better and take care of myself, yadda, yadda, yadda. Anyway, what's new with you? Been on any noteworthy dates lately?"

Darcy snorts out a laugh. "No dates period, let alone ones of the noteworthy variety. I've been really busy lately."

"You really should start dating again, Darcy. It's been what, a year since you broke up with Alex?"

"I think 'broke up' is too strong a word for whatever that relationship was. We only went out a handful of times and we stopped because he was dumb, boring, and really terrible in the sack."

"What about your new neighbor?"

"Steve? What about him? Yeah, he's hot, but I'm not trying to date my neighbor. That's a recipe for disaster and I love my apartment."

"Okay, every time you say his name the next word out of your mouth is hot or a synonym for it. Do you have a picture of this guy? I'm very curious."

"I do, actually," Darcy informs her, pulling up a photo on her phone. Jane snatches the phone to take a look and her mouth drops open.

"Shut the front door. Is he real?"

"I know, right? Scroll over and check out his friend," Darcy suggests.

She does and her eyes go round. "Good lord. How is this your life now with all these hot guys dropping into it?"

"Says the girl dating Thor," Darcy counters.

"And you don't want to date either of them?" Jane wonders, baffled.

Darcy shakes her head, "Nope."

"Why the hell not?"

"Well, Bucky is too much like me and if I wanted to date myself I'd just stay home and use my vibrator. Oh, wait, I already do that."

"Darcy!" Jane laughs and looks around to see if anyone else heard her.

"And Steve is a nice guy and I am really taken aback by his gorgeous face every time I see it, but he's my neighbor and I'm not going there. Don't poop where you live, ya know?"

"You are utterly ridiculous, Darcy Lewis."

Darcy raises her mimosa and winks at her friend. "True story."

* * *

Steve's sitting at his drawing table by the window sketching the scene outside of kids playing superheroes in the street when a knock sounds on his door. Sarge clambers from his dog bed to bark at whoever is on the other side. He puts his charcoal pencil down and attempts to brush away the dust off his hands before answering the door.

He pulls it open to see Darcy on the other side holding what appears to be bakery boxes, one with black paw prints on the side. "Darcy—hi," he greets, surprised to see her.

Sarge instantly goes crazy when he sees Darcy and starts jumping around excitedly. "Well, hello to you, Sarge," she coos, reaching down to pet him on the head. She smiles at Steve and holds up the boxes for him to see. "Howdy, neighbor. I brought treats for Sarge. There might be one for you, too." His surprised smile is very endearing.

"Wow, that's so nice," he tells her, leaning against the door. She looks back at him expectantly and gives him an amused half smile. "Oh. Sorry, I'm—come in," he manages and takes the boxes, stepping back so she can walk through the door.

She hesitates at the door, feeling a bit like she's imposing on him. "Am I interrupting something? I can go if I am."

"No, not at all," he insists. "I was just drawing a little. Please come in."

She smiles softly and follows him into the apartment. "Well, that explains the smudge."

His brows arch questioningly. "Sorry?"

"On your face," she points to her cheek.

"Oh," he blushes, swiping at his cheek with the back of his hand. "Did I get it?"

"No." She chuckles softly and steps closer to him. He just blinks and clears his throat. It amuses her greatly how easily embarrassed he is. "Hold still," she instructs, reaching up and gently swiping the pad of her thumb across his cheek. "There. All gone."

Steve's lips twitch into a half smile. "Thank you."

"No sweat," Darcy shrugs and kneels down to pay Sarge the attention he's desperately seeking. "I was at brunch today and I saw the cutest dog bakery across the street. I just knew I had to buy something for my furry friend, here. Didn't I, boy?" She laughs when Sarge sits up and puts his front paws on her chest. "Oh, you men are all the same," she jokes. "Then I walked past a regular bakery and thought you should have a treat, too. And here I am. I hope you like cookies."

Steve rubs his hand over the back of his head and huffs out a laugh while he tries to absorb all of that information. "You're something else, Darcy." He blanches a little as soon as the words are out. It was meant to be a compliment but she's looking at him like she might actually be offended. "In a good way," he clarifies, making her snort out a laugh.

"You're too easy, Steve," she tells him. "It's fun messing with you."

One thing he's learned for certain in the short time he's known Darcy Lewis is that things will never be boring while she's around. "I don't know how I'm supposed to respond to that," he says dryly. "But we thank you for the treats. Don't we, Sarge?" Sarge barks once in agreement.

Darcy stands up and tucks her hands into her back pockets. "Sarge's treats are the ones with the paws on the box," she says seriously.

His lips twitch. "Smart ass."

"Now you're getting it," Darcy laughs.

Steve puts the boxes down on the counter and opens up the one with Sarge's treats inside. "These are dog treats?" he asks skeptically. They look an awful lot like the iced sugar cookies he likes to get from his favorite bakery, but these are bone shaped and smell like peanut butter and something else he doesn't want to guess.

"New York City, am I right? You can find anything in this town," she muses.

"That's true." He tosses a cookie to his dog who happily runs off into the other room with it between his teeth. He gets a cookie for himself and takes a huge bite. It's chocolate chip with walnuts and it's probably the best cookie he's ever had. "S'is so good," he mumbles before he's even finished chewing, which is not at all polite. His mother would kill him. Once he's finished chewing he apologizes. "I'm sorry. That was bad-mannered."

Darcy waves him off as she casually looks around his apartment. It's slightly larger than hers and has a quiet masculinity to it. The walls of the living room are painted a warm shade of beige and decorated with framed sketches and vintage movie posters. She especially likes the black and white _Casablanca_ poster. There's an oversized brown leather couch (he is huge after all) that looks ridiculously comfortable facing the television and he's got an old drafting table near the window. She's admittedly very curious about the drawings inside the sketchbook that sits on top. "I like your place," she tells him.

"Thank you."

"What were you drawing before?" she asks.

"Oh. Um, these kids outside." He takes in her arched eyebrow and covers his eyes with his hand. Great, he admonishes himself. Darcy probably thinks he's a pervert or something. "God, no. That sounded terrible, didn't it? These kids were playing superheroes outside and I sketched the scene." He walks over and grabs his sketchbook and flips it open. "Here."

Darcy bites the inside of her lip to keep the laugh at bay and takes the sketchbook from him. She doesn't know what to expect when she looks at the picture, but it's _good_. Like, terrific actually. The scene is so good that it nearly springs to life off the page. She doesn't say anything, just continues to look at it and soak up all the little details.

Steve shifts nervously and tucks his hands into his pockets. It's always so nerve-wracking showing his art to someone and wondering what they're thinking as they stare at it. "I was just—messing around," he offers lamely.

She doesn't say anything for a long time, but she finally lifts her head and looks at him in surprise. "This is fantastic, Steve," she breathes out.

That pierces through him and makes him feel like a million bucks. "Thanks," he smiles bashfully. He's in sort of a hurry to get that book away from her though, because he remembers the drawings he's done of her recently and he just can't take anymore embarrassment for the day. He also doesn't want to look like a total creep. "I was just about to take Sarge to the park. Would you like to join us?"

"I can't say no to an offer like that," Darcy smiles. "Let me just grab my camera. I might be able to get some work done while we're there. Be right back."

Steve smiles after her and yells for Sarge.

* * *

"So," she begins after he throws a Frisbee halfway across the park for Sarge to fetch, "where'd you learn to draw like that?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, grinning when Sarge leaps high into the air, twisting around to snag the flying disc in his teeth. "It was just something I started doing as a kid. I liked drawing scenes from movies, comic book characters, people I knew. Things like that." He hears a click and glances over to see Darcy with her camera pointed at him. "What are you doing?" he asks laughingly.

Darcy lowers the camera a bit and flashes a sly smile. "Working. My life is so hard." She likes his answering smirk and when she glances down at the display, she sees that she was exactly right about the camera loving his face. "I find I get great shots when I get my subjects talking about something they enjoy. And you clearly enjoy drawing. Did you ever take classes?" She's got the camera pointed at him again and he hesitates. "Just pretend this isn't here," she encourages, "and talk to me."

There's something comforting about her voice so he forces himself to relax and tries to forget about her camera. "I—yeah, I took a couple about a year ago. They were interesting and I learned a lot." Sarge returns with the Frisbee and he sends it flying once again.

"Draw any naked people?" she teases.

Steve knows she's purposely trying to embarrass him now and he's not going to take the bait. "Maybe," he draws out.

"That's a yes. I bet you went red as a tomato when the model dropped her robe the first time."

He heaves a sigh and slants a pinched look her direction. "You enjoy teasing me, don't you?"

"Duh!" she laughs again.

"You know, I'm not the goody two shoes you seem to think I am," he retorts, arching a brow.

Darcy hums in amusement. "Color me intrigued." She snaps a couple more pictures and points her lens at the dog when he drops his toy at Steve's feet. "Hey, Steve," she calls. He looks over and Sarge takes that opportunity to lick his owner's face. It's the perfect shot.

His phone rings and he frowns when he sees the display. "Rogers," he answers. He listens to Natasha as she gives him vague details of the assignment. "Departure time? I need to make plans for my dog." He ignores the string of Russian curses she hurls back in response. "I will handle it, Romanoff," Steve clips. "1800 hours, I've got it." He ends the call and shoves the phone back in his pocket.

"Very intrigued indeed," she tells him. "Super secret security stuff?"

"Alliterative," he chuckles. "And yes."

Darcy considers his situation for a moment and while she wasn't exactly _trying _to eavesdrop, she couldn't help but overhear that he needs someone to dog sit. She thinks maybe she could handle Sarge for a bit. "How long are you going to be gone?" she asks. "Or is that classified?"

"Two days; three max. Why?"

"I can watch Sarge for you—if you want," Darcy offers.

Steve lifts his brows in surprise. "Are you sure ? I could find someone—"

"Stop. I want to," Darcy answers honestly. "That's what friends do. Just tell me what his routine is and I'll do my best to adhere to it while you're out being Delta force or James Bond or whatever it is that you do."

Steve's lips twitch into a smirk over her guesses; she's not far off for this one. "Okay. Thank you, Darcy."

She nods and calls Sarge over to put his leash on. "We'd better get moving, soldier. And when you get back, you can draw me a picture as a thank you. Deal?"

"Yes, ma'am," he teases, falling in step with her as they head home.

* * *

Steve boards the plane and sees Bucky lounging comfortably with a boot propped up on one knee and reading from a file. He presumes that Natasha is flying and must be readying for takeoff. "Bucky," Steve greets, stowing his bag in the compartment overhead.

"Hey, buddy! Tash, he's here," Bucky yells towards the cockpit.

Natasha walks out a moment later, lips pursed, and hands him a file. "Memorize this," she tells him. "Wheels up in five."

He frowns at her icy tone and gives her a sarcastic salute that she clearly doesn't appreciate. "Did you get my shield and suit?" he asks when she turns to walk away.

"You're going to need a different suit for this mission, Cap," she calls over her shoulder and disappears into the cockpit again.

Bucky grins mischievously across from him. "Better buckle up, pal. It's time for your first undercover assignment."

Steve answers Bucky's grin with one of his own and sits down to study the file.


	5. Secret Agent Man

Steve unzips the garment bag Natasha handed him when they arrived at the hotel and sees a navy pinstriped suit inside. It still has the price tag on it and he glances at it out of morbid curiosity. He nearly chokes when he sees that it cost $3,000. For one suit. "Jesus," he mutters and pulls the suit off the hanger.

Bucky laughs behind him and Steve sees that he's already dressed in his waiter's uniform. "Don't sweat it, Rogers. It's on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s dime, not yours. And you get to keep it. If you'd rather trade—"

"You couldn't fill out that suit properly, Barnes," Natasha says wryly as she emerges from the other room already dressed to the nines in a purple lace dress and a blonde wig. She rolls her eyes when Bucky all but pouts at her put down. "He's taller than you are, you big baby." She turns back to Steve and levels him with a heated glare, which he assumes is because he's not dressed yet.

"How did you get ready so soon?" Steve asks.

"Not my first rodeo, Cap. Now hurry up." She mumbles something in Russian he knows isn't complimentary and loads her SIG-Sauer in the tiny purse she's carrying and puts in her earpiece.

Steve dresses quickly and checks his appearance in the mirror. He thinks he looks pretty good, but he turns and waits for Natasha's approval. It's not that he _needs_ it exactly, but she's the lead on the mission and even though they're friendly, he usually tries his best not to piss her off. She gives him a quick once-over and walks over to fix his tie. Once it's deemed acceptable, she gives him a curt nod and hands him his earpiece.

"Okay, what's your alias?" she quizzes.

"Simon Randall," he answers quickly.

"And mine?"

"Nora Richmond."

"His?" she gestures with her head in Bucky's direction.

"No one cares because he's the waiter," Steve answers drolly and he's pretty proud of himself when she barks out a quick laugh.

"Fuck you guys!" Bucky grumbles. Steve laughs and slips in his earpiece.

"You have your assignment memorized?" Natasha asks as she lifts up her dress to tuck a Smith and Wesson into the garter she has high on her thigh.

He averts his eyes and quickly details what he read in the file. "Circulate during the party—grab the champagne glass laced with thiopental sodium, or truth serum, from Bucky, and chat up Appleyard's wife to gain the location of their vacation home which S.H.I.E.L.D. suspects to be a new center of Hydra activity."

Natasha nods and the corners of her mouth turn up almost imperceptibly. "And I'll keep Appleyard distracted while Barnes breaks into their suite and steals the ruby necklace from the safe that we believe to be the key to cracking a new Hydra weapon."

"You know the rendezvous point if this goes ass up?" Bucky asks.

"Cannon Street Station," Steve recites. He's starting to feel like a child, but he knows they're just making sure he's got all the info since this is his first undercover assignment.

"Stevie's first undercover mission," Bucky cheers and puts his hand up for a high five. Neither he nor Natasha oblige him, but Steve smirks once Natasha rolls her eyes and walks away.

"What'd you do to piss her off?" Steve asks quietly after she leaves the room.

"Fuck if I know. Women, am I right?" Bucky pinches Steve's cheek before smacking it once. "Break a leg, buddy."

Steve slaps Bucky's hand away and shoves him. "Jerk."

"Punk," Bucky grins and flips him a jaunty salute before leaving the room.

Steve takes a deep breath and heads for the party downstairs.

… … …

Darcy is taking to dog sitting like a duck to water, in her opinion. Sarge is her buddy and while Steve warned her that he liked to go for a long run every morning, she found that he was content with a brisk walk. Frankly, the only time Darcy wants to run is if someone is chasing her, _thank you very much_; even then, she carries a taser, so she'll take her chances. It's not that she's lazy or allergic to exercise; it's just that she has what she likes to call _big titty problems_ and doesn't want black eyes from running. She'll stick to walking or yoga.

After their morning walk, they stop at the pet store and she buys him a chew toy and a new red collar when she notices that the one he's wearing is fading a bit. Darcy doesn't want to overstep her boundaries, but the way she sees it, she's doing Steve a solid by watching the dog in the first place and she's the one buying the dog presents. She's the best neighbor ever. Plus she feels the slightest bit guilty because she's working the bar tonight and has an anniversary party to shoot tomorrow so Sarge will have to entertain himself while she's gone.

She really likes having Sarge around her apartment, though. He likes to lie at her feet while she edits and if she's on the couch he prefers lying with his head on her leg rather than hanging out in his plaid dog bed.

They go for another long walk in the afternoon and she plays fetch with him in the park by her apartment for a long while. She snaps some pictures of him playing and a few more when a family with two young children come over and asks if they can pet him. It's just the cutest scene and she knows after she tweaks them a bit, there should be one or two she could potentially add to her portfolio.

It's another gorgeous summer day, so she's content to hang out at the park with Sarge until she needs to go home and nap for a while before her shift at the bar. She plops down onto the grass and Sarge immediately comes over and climbs into her lap to lick her face. Darcy pulls out her phone and snaps a self-pic of her and Sarge to send to Steve. She fires off a quick text with it to let him know she's taking good care of his pup.

There is a cute guy not far from where she and Sarge are hanging out and he is also playing with his dog. He smiles at her and she does not hate that, so she smiles back. She tells Sarge that he's man bait and that he should always stick with her. He cocks his head to the side and pants, which is adorable. The guy comes over soon after that and she's initially happy about talking to him because he seems nice enough and he's pretty attractive. At least until she spots the man's wedding band on his left ring finger, then she makes a quick retreat back to her apartment.

"So much for that, Sarge," she sighs. Sarge licks her calf and she giggles.

… … …

Steve enters the ballroom and casually looks around for his mark. He sees Bucky passing drinks on a tray and Natasha sipping from a flute of champagne as she works her way closer to Sir Appleyard. The man's name is ridiculous and the more he says it in his head the funnier it becomes. He'll laugh about it later, because he finally spots Mrs. Appleyard holding court at her table with a few other women. Natasha's arranged for him to be seated at her table, so this should be easy enough.

He gets a scotch on the rocks from the bar and strolls over to the table. Mrs. Appleyard and her friends stop talking the moment he reaches his seat and stare up at him. "Hello, ladies," he greets smoothly. "I'm Simon and I believe this is my seat for the evening."

If he had to guess, he'd say that Mrs. Appleyard is in her mid-to-late forties and is desperately clinging to her youth by injecting things into her face that have made it look a bit catlike. That's something that really perplexes him about the 21st century: how no one wants to accept the process of aging gracefully. He can tell that Mrs. Appleyard used to be lovely when she was younger. She introduces herself as Felicity and he draws her hand to his lips and kisses her fingers. She blushes like the school girl she isn't and asks how she came to the good fortune of having such a good-looking young man join her table.

He seamlessly recites his background and the made-up foundation he works for. The table hangs on to his every word and in the moment he no longer feels at all like Steve Rogers. It's a bit surreal. Steve notices that Felicity's glass is empty and he tells her he'll get her a refill. She beams brightly at him and he excuses himself from the table.

Bucky approaches him carrying a tray with a single flute of champagne which Steve takes and circles back to his table. He feels the tiniest bit guilty over the fact that he's about to drug this woman who is actually very sweet, but it won't harm her at all. She's only going to flap her gums and may end up spilling some embarrassing secrets to her friends once he's gathered the information he needs. Besides, her husband is climbing the ranks of Hydra and she's his best chance right now in getting the information they need to help shut them down.

Felicity accepts the champagne with a warm thank you and he slides back into his seat, inconspicuously pressing the timer on his watch that was pre-set for fifteen minutes to allow the drug to take effect. "Simon" makes small talk with the other ladies at the table, but he keeps his focus on Felicity who is looking at him like she wants to devour him the way she did her chocolate soufflé.

The timer on his watch beeps once and he takes that as his cue to ask Felicity to dance. He stands up and holds out his hand for her, which she takes readily and allows him to lead her out to the dance floor.

It's far too easy to get the location from her once he starts talking about needing a vacation. She offers up everything he needed and more in the time it took for the song to end. He thanks her for the dance and kisses her hand again, saying that he has enjoyed meeting her, but sees his business partner and must go make his rounds.

Steve walks through the ballroom and presses his finger to his ear saying, "Got it."

… … …

He waits in the suite for Bucky and Natasha to return so they can get the hell out of there. Steve feels good about how his portion of the mission went, but he's too cagey to sit down while he waits. He just hopes when all is said and done that they're successful as a team, because that will put them one step closer to cutting off the head of Hydra.

Natasha returns to the room first and says, "Молодец." He has no clue what the hell that means and it must show on his face because she smiles and clarifies, "Well done, Cap," and pulls the blonde wig off her head. "Is James back yet?"

As if on cue, the door opens and Bucky hurries inside and produces the necklace from inside his vest in lieu of answering questions. "We need to get the hell out of here. I was almost caught and had to climb out the window. Let's go get fish and chips. I'm not leaving London Town until I do. And save the eye rolls for later, Romanoff. Let's move," he says, quickly stripping off his waiter uniform.

… … …

They're sitting in a pub eating their fish and chips when Steve finally succumbs to his urge to laugh about the stupidity of the name Sir Appleyard. His shoulders shake first with silent laughter, but it quickly progresses to giggling that he tries to cover up with his hand, and is followed by a loud, full-body laugh that has him doubling over in his seat. It comes around full circle again and he's laughing so hard now that no sound is coming out. Natasha and Bucky are looking at him like he's lost his damn mind, and that only makes him laugh harder. When he finally chokes out what he's laughing about, Bucky laughs, too, and Natasha smirks before turning her attention back to her Stark Pad.

Steve finally composes himself and finishes his food. He pulls out his phone after a bit and sees that he has a message from Darcy. He opens it up and sees a picture of her and Sarge at the park. She's wearing aviators and a t-shirt with his shield on the front, smiling into the camera with Sarge next to her, his tongue wagging. The message says: _Having so much fun with Aunt Darcy who is taking excellent care of me. XO Sarge _

_ P.S. I was such a good boy today that I got a new collar and a chew toy. _

His lips twitch into a grin and he hears Bucky ask, "What's so interesting on your phone, there, Steve?"

"None of your business," he replies, but Bucky snatches the phone from his fingers before he can tuck it into his pocket and chuckles when he sees the photo.

"Jesus, _when_ are you going to make a move on her?"

Natasha starts firing off something in Russian, and Bucky volleys back, also in Russian. Even though Steve can only discern a few words here and there—mostly curse words—anyone could tell their conversation is heated and edging towards hostile. They're clearly _off again_ in their cyclical relationship, but Steve's seen this kind of exchange before and he's betting they'll probably be _on again_ the second they can find a bed. "Stop. Please. I hate when Mom and Dad fight," he mutters humorously. He makes a grab for his phone but Natasha beats him to it and looks at the picture of Darcy.

"Pretty," she tells him with an arched brow. "And she's a Captain America fan?" Natasha's lips twitch and Steve can see she's trying not to laugh.

"Not just a fan," Bucky snorts. "She said, and I quote, 'would climb that star spangled sex god like a tree and never let go.'"

Natasha genuinely laughs at that and slides Steve's phone across the table to him. "I like her already."

"You guys are a pain in my ass today," Steve grumbles and rolls his eyes. "So, you can pay for dinner."

… … …

The team gets back to New York late the next afternoon and by the time they finish their debriefing, it's pushing eight o' clock. Steve hasn't anything since lunch and he is starving; all he wants is to get home, order some food, pick up his dog, and maybe chat with Darcy while he waits.

He treks up the stairs to his apartment to dump his bag before crossing the hall to pick up Sarge and he can hear music playing in Darcy's apartment—music that seems familiar though it's not loud enough for him to make it out clearly. He raps his knuckles on her door and smiles when Sarge's familiar bark sounds on the other side.

Darcy pads to the door and looks through the peep hole. She cringes when she sees Steve and realizes that she's in her pajamas, but in her defense she didn't know he was coming back tonight. Deciding she's decent enough, she pulls open the door and smiles at him, laughing a little when Sarge jumps in circles around Steve's legs. "Hi," she greets.

Steve's senses are a tad overwhelmed from the moment she opens the door. He notices her first, because there's no way he couldn't. Especially not with her standing there in tiny red polka dotted shorts and a black tank top with shiny red lips and the words 'I love kissing' printed across her chest.

Her damp hair is falling in loose waves around her shoulders and she smells like apples and fresh laundry. She's wearing glasses, too, and the whole look is simultaneously adorable and utterly sexy.

The music playing finally registers in his brain—it's Glenn Miller Orchestra and a wave of nostalgia hits him like a ton of bricks. She's looking at him, her full naked lips quirking in amusement, and he feels foolish for staring. "Hi," he manages finally and turns his attention to Sarge, bending down to pet him. "Hey, Sarge. I missed you, too, buddy!"

"Sorry, you caught me off guard," Darcy admits, leaning against the door. "I wouldn't have answered the door in my pajamas had I known you were coming back tonight."

He looks up and gets an eyeful of her bare legs, so he stands quickly before his mind starts to wander to places it shouldn't. "Oh, I'm sorry. I sent you a text." Reaching for his phone, he opens his messages and sees that he never did send it. "Or I tried to send you a text," he blushes.

Darcy bites back a laugh because he looks embarrassed enough as is. "No worries, Steve. Come on in," she tells him and steps back so he can walk inside. "How's everything in the world of security and espionage?" she teases. She plops down on the couch and curls her legs underneath her.

Steve grins; he enjoys the hell out of her wit. "Classified." He sits down at the other end of her overstuffed red sofa and turns so they're face to face.

She snaps her fingers. "Damn. That's always the way. Sarge and I got along great while you were gone."

"Good. I knew you would, but I'm glad to hear that." He looks around her apartment and there's a lot to take in. The walls are a vibrant turquoise and she has framed pictures on the walls that he wonders if they're her photographs or not. Everywhere he looks he can see books, candles, knick knacks, and other miscellaneous _stuff_. Most of it is brightly colored and it should probably look like a jumbled mess, but it feels like a home. Darcy's home. "I like your place," he tells her. "It's interesting."

Darcy laughs at that. "I have a lot of shit, you mean. It's okay," she waves him off when it appears that he's got an apology on his lips. "I do have a lot of shit, but it suits me. And thank you."

He nods. "I have to say," he begins, holding a finger to his ear, "you don't strike me as a Glenn Miller Orchestra fan."

"Oh," she smiles. "Well, I listen to a bit of everything. But this music seemed very appropriate for what I was working on. C'mere and I'll show you." She pushes herself up off the couch and motions for him to follow her.

She leads him into the large alcove she's clearly using as her office. This area is bright orange and there are framed photographs of antique cameras on one wall, and white shelves that are meticulously organized with her equipment on another. It's a distinct contrast to her living room, but this suits her every bit as much as the other room. She pulls out a stool for him to sit on and settles down in her own chair at the computer.

"I shot a 75th wedding anniversary today," she says a little breathlessly, blue eyes wide and sparkling behind her glasses. "Can you even imagine? Seventy –five years with the same person." Darcy clicks one of the thumbnails and makes the photo bigger so Steve can see. "Aren't they sweet?"

Words escape him as he looks intently at the photograph on the screen. This couple is only a few years older than he really is, or should be if he hadn't been frozen for nearly as long as they've been married. "They are," he quietly agrees. It's not that he's sad. He's come to terms with everything that's happened and what his life is now. Mostly, anyway, but there are moments when he becomes a little…_wistful_, he supposes, for a life he might've had.

"Their names are Henry and Caroline Regan. They've lived in Brooklyn their entire lives and they have a mess of kids and grandkids, great grandkids. It was just a wonderful celebration with their family and friends and I felt honored to be a part of it today. Oh, look at this one," she tells him. "I love how this turned out."

Steve smiles when he realizes what it is that he's seeing. The couple is standing in front of the church where they got married and he's kissing her. There are two little hands in the shot holding the couple's wedding photo where they are locked in the same embrace seventy-five years earlier. "You're really talented, Darcy."

She knows she's a good photographer and she works really hard at it. But there's something about the way Steve compliments her so simply and so earnestly at the same time that really flatters her. Her cheeks feel a little warm and that's supposed to be his thing, not hers. "Aw, shucks, Steve," she jokes.

"You could just say you're welcome, you know," he laughs and nudges her with his elbow.

Darcy turns her head and grins, "Where's the fun in that?"

Steve just shrugs and looks back at the photograph. _Moonlight Serenade _starts playing and he hears Darcy sigh.

"I love this song. Every time I hear it, I imagine myself in the forties all dolled up in some amazing dress and my hair perfectly curled, dancing with my soldier. And—" Darcy slaps her forehead and groans. "Oh, my god, I can't believe I just told you that," she laughs. "You must think I'm crazy." Her cheeks are definitely pink now with embarrassment.

"I don't," he answers. _If she only knew_, he thinks. He can see her exactly the way she described and like the ones she takes with her camera, it's an amazing picture. Steve's stomach growls loudly and she giggles, diffusing any awkwardness that threatened to creep in.

"Skip dinner, Soldier?"

"God, I'm _starving_. I was going to go home and order a pizza after I picked up Sarge.

Darcy's eyes grow wide. "Pizza—YUM! I forgot to eat dinner, too. Want to split one with me?"

"Sure," Steve grins. "My treat as a thank you for watching my buddy over there."

"That's a great offer and one I will happily accept. I'll go get the menus." She pats his shoulder before walking into the other room.

He watches her go and blows out a breath. If he wasn't sure before, he definitely is now. He's more than a little taken with Darcy.


	6. You & Tequila

Darcy swears she is going to kill Jane.

_Dead. Murdered. Stabbed. _

And she just might follow through with that if she survives this horrible blind date. It's her stupid fault that Darcy's even out on this thing to begin with. Jane has been on her case incessantly ever since their brunch a month ago about dating. Darcy's insistence that she's _fine_ and doesn't want to go on any damn blind dates had fallen on deaf ears. She had reluctantly agreed just to get Jane to shut the hell up already.

So, here she is, walking down the sidewalk beside this douche canoe, Todd, while he carries his skateboard and bores her to tears with talk about video games.

Steve and Bucky have officially moved up in the ranks as her best friends after this shit. Jane is dead last on her list right now and she decides that it would take a miracle of epic proportions to change that anytime this century.

… … …

"I knocked on Darcy's door earlier to see if she wanted to hang out with us but she wasn't home," Steve says to Bucky and tosses him a beer.

Bucky catches it without looking up from his phone and pops the top off. "That's 'cause she's out on a date."

"She's _what_?" Steve nearly squawks. "How do you know that?" He quickly reminds himself that it's none of his business if she goes out on dates because they're just friends.

Bucky smirks at him and takes a long pull from the bottle. "She told me about it earlier when we were texting. Don't look at me like that. Darcy's my friend, too, ya know. We're bros."

Steve rolls his eyes at that and takes a drink of his Coke. "Don't talk like Tony in my apartment, please. Or ever."

"This is burning you up, isn't it?"

"No, why should it? I know you and Darcy are friends," he shrugs, though he bristles a little that she talked to Bucky about her date and not to him, which is admittedly petty of him, he knows, but he and Darcy are friends and they talk all the time. He wonders why she wouldn't have told him about having a date.

Bucky throws out his signature _buillshit _stare. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I didn't know she had a date, is all. I guess that was a bit of a surprise," Steve concedes.

Bucky scoffs. "Why? She's a gorgeous girl who is fun as hell. Who wouldn't ask her out? Oh, wait a minute—_you,_" he tells Steve pointedly.

Steve hasn't admitted to anyone that he is starting to have feelings for Darcy, but Bucky knows him too well, which is more of a curse than a blessing in this particular situation. "Shut up, Bucky," Steve grumbles childishly and heads for the door when he hears a knock.

He opens the door and is pleasantly surprised to see Darcy standing there still dressed up from her date. "Oh, thank _god!" _she exclaims and barrels inside with a look of relief on her face. "My two favorite people. Congratulations, guys," she tells them, "you're officially my best friends as Jane is now dead to me. Hey, Sarge," she greets, petting his head absently when he jumps on her.

"What's the matter, doll? Date not go well?" Bucky asks. He pats the seat next to his and Darcy flops down on the couch and steals his beer. "By all means take my drink."

"I need this more than you do," she assures him. "Worst. Date. Ever." She drains the rest of his beer and hands the empty bottle back to him.

"You look really good, though," Bucky winks and tugs on the ends of her hair.

"I know," she frowns, looking down at her flow-y top, skinny jeans, and tall boots. "Waste of a perfectly great outfit."

Bucky laughs and playfully shoves at her knee. "And humble to boot."

Steve really shouldn't be happy about the fact that her date went so badly, but he is anyway. "Well, out with it, then." He grins, flanking the other side of her on the couch and pats her knee. "Tell your best friends why it was so bad."

Darcy turns her head to smile gratefully at Steve. "Oh, I plan to, but I need more booze first. You boys feel like getting drunk with me tonight?" She rolls her head the other way and looks at Bucky.

"I do," Bucky says, raising his hand in the air.

Steve chuckles and gives her a lopsided grin when she turns to bat her eyelashes at him. He can't get drunk, of course, but it'll be fun to drink with her anyway. "I can't say no to a face like that."

Darcy claps her hands together. "Yay! I've got tequila in my apartment. I'll be right back." She springs off the couch and rushes out the door.

"It's your lucky night, pal," Bucky begins. "She's not falling in love with someone else today."

Steve flips Bucky the finger and ignores the answering snort. Bucky can go ahead and assume whatever he wants to about his feelings for Darcy. It's Steve's business and no one else's. Not even Darcy's at this point.

... … …

Darcy feels better already. Having her two favorite guys to hang out with after that disaster of a date is exactly what she needs. She changes quickly into yoga pants and a well-worn V-neck shirt. After grabbing the full bottle of tequila and three shot glasses out of the cabinet, she checks the fridge and finds a couple of lemons that are still good before going back across the hall to Steve's place.

"Okay," she begins the second she's back through the door. She plops down on the floor and sets the shot glasses and bottle of tequila on the coffee table. "Here," she tosses the lemons to Bucky. "Make yourself useful and go cut those up." At his arched brow she bares her teeth. "Now."

"I don't even live here," he argues.

"I'm sure you can find a knife," she dismisses him with a wave of her hand and Steve laughs. "So, this _date_," she starts, making quotes with her fingers for emphasis, "and I do use that term loosely, shows up to meet me on his fucking skateboard. He's twenty-five!" she cries indignantly. "What boy over the age of seventeen rides a damn skateboard anyway? It's New York City, not the X-Games. And furthermore, what man _ever_ shows up to a date riding a skateboard? _Fucking Todd_, that's who." She can't wait for the lemons Bucky is grumpily cutting in the kitchen and pours out three shots of tequila, knocking hers back and grimacing slightly as it slides down her throat. "Woo."

Steve bites the inside of his lip to stifle the laugh that threatens to burst out. Darcy is adorable all riled up, but he knows it would probably be stupid to laugh right now. "I'm sorry," he sympathizes.

Darcy holds up and hand and says, "Oh, buddy, we've barely scratched the surface." She beams when Bucky comes back with a bowl of lemon wedges and a shaker of salt.

"Here you go, Princess."

"A right peach you are, Buchanan," she drawls and fills up her shot glass again. "Drink up, men," she orders. She licks the inside of her wrist and sprinkles salt on the skin before licking it off. She raises her shot glass in toast to her friends and downs the liquid before reaching for a lemon and sucking the juice out. "Oh, fuck, that burns!"

Steve and Bucky are staring at her and sort of blinking in amusement. She knows she's a whirlwind when she's wound up. "What? I'm on a mission and I'm up two shots on you guys. Am I the only one here with a pair tonight?" She turns heated eyes pointedly at Bucky. "Just keep the comments about my tits to yourself."

Bucky bursts out laughing and reaches for his glass. "Jesus, you're a piece of work, Darcy," he crows before drinking his tequila.

"Steve?" Darcy asks, gesturing to his shot glass.

"I don't back down from a challenge," he smirks. "And I won't let a lady drink alone." He tries not to make a face when the alcohol hits his taste buds, but it's strong and stings on the way down.

"Aw, Stevie can't handle his tequila," Darcy teases.

Steve nudges her knee with his foot. "We'll see about that," he winks. "Finish your story."

"Right. Todd the skateboarding douche pickle. First date attire for ol' Todd? Frayed cargo shorts, a plaid flannel with holes, and those stupid Skele-toes shoe thingies."

"Hipster hat?" Bucky inquires.

"Sadly, no. Otherwise I would have pulled the trigger on that date then and there. But I persevered only out of manners. The second he started talking about video games I checked out."

"Where'd he take you?" Steve asks, greatly amused by her flair in detailing this story.

"Here's the best part. And by best, I obviously mean absolute worst—a vegan restaurant."

"Yuck," Steve turns up his nose the same time Bucky cries, "Gross!"

"Exactly," she says, drawing out each syllable. "I mean, good for him, I guess, if that's the lifestyle he wants to live, but don't impose that shit on me on a first date."

"What'd you order?" Steve wonders.

Darcy looks slightly abashed. "I didn't. I told him I had to use the restroom and I just left."

"Darcy!" Steve scolds, though he laughs until his stomach hurts.

"Fuck," Bucky cackles, "that is hilarious, Lewis."

Darcy grins wickedly at the two men. "I stopped on my way home and inhaled a double cheeseburger just to spite him."

… … …

Darcy's lying on her stomach on the floor stroking the fur on Sarge's back and singing along to Mumford and Sons playing through the iPod dock. She's comfortably buzzed and her head is swimming in that pleasant way where she's very happy but she's not laughing hysterically at everything that's being said. Yet. 'Tis always a fine line with tequila shots.

The three of them have been talking and laughing for the last couple of hours, asking each other random questions. It's been pretty innocent up to this point, so she's not exactly surprised when it's Bucky's turn again to ask her a question and he turns the tables on her. "When was the last time you had sex, Darcy?"

Steve's brows shoot nearly to his hairline at Bucky's audacity. He knows he shouldn't be surprised, because Bucky is an instigator on a good day and tonight he's been drinking, but he still is a bit shocked by his bold question. He smirks when Darcy rolls her eyes and shoots Bucky a dubious look. Bucky grins wickedly at him before turning his attention back to Darcy. He swallows thickly because this line of questioning isn't doing anything to help curb his growing feelings.

"That's how you want to play now?" she asks, eyebrows arched in a challenge. "I need another drink for this then."

"Indeed." He reaches for the bottle and pours another one out for all three of them.

Darcy sighs and takes her shot. "The last time I had sex was an embarrassingly long time ago." When Bucky rolls his eyes and motions for her to elaborate she blows out a breath. "Fourteen months."

"No way," Bucky objects. "Seriously?"

"I know. It's been even longer since I've had _good _sex." She groans because she can't believe she just said that out loud. She rolls onto her back and looks up at the ceiling. "My life is sad, you guys."

"Let's dissect this, please."

"Bucky, leave her alone," Steve warns.

"Nope. Darcy made the rules of this game and she has to answer."

"You don't have to answer him if you don't want to," Steve tells her. He's torn about whether or not he even wants to hear her answer. Part of him definitely wants to because he's learning a lot about her and hearing her talk about sex is, well, _sexy_, but the rest of him thinks it's not very smart for him to be thinking about Darcy and sex in the same sentence right now. She rolls onto her side and her lips curve slowly for him. Yes, this is definitely not great as far as ideas go.

"Thank you for being sweet, Steve. But Bucky's right. I made the rules and I'm not going to chicken out. What do you want to know, Barnes?"

"We'll start with _why_ has it been so long?"

She sighs and rolls onto her stomach again, resting her chin on her fist. "Because that's how long it's been since I was seeing someone, and while I don't think it's necessary to be in a committed relationship before tearing up the sheets, I don't dig on one night stands."

"Fair enough," Bucky nods, seemingly satisfied with that response.

"Why was it bad?" Steve asks, surprising himself and evidently Bucky and Darcy as well if the way they're blinking owlishly at him is any indication.

Darcy's lips tick up crookedly. "Let's just say if Alex'd had an entire team of lawyers in his back pocket he _still _couldn't have gotten me off." Bucky snorts and buries his face behind a pillow while he laughs. She sees Steve giving her a sympathetic smile even though he's going red in the face like he's about to crack up, too.

"That's just sad," Steve tells her in all seriousness. He enjoys sex—_a lot_—and while certainly not every time is mind blowing, it's always at least pretty good.

Darcy snorts. "You're tellin' me, friend."

"Did you fake it?" Bucky asks.

"Fuck no," she spits heatedly as she glares at him. "There was absolutely no way I was rewarding his miserable performance in the sack. Men will never learn if women fake orgasms. Shame on you for even asking that."

He laughs again, holding up his hands in surrender. "Darcy, I fucking love you. Seriously. I want to put you in my pocket and carry you around with me all the time," Bucky tells her.

Darcy throws her head back and laughs at that. "Christ, Bucky, have another drink. She turns her attention to the other man and smirks at him. "Okay, Steve, it's your turn. How long has it been for you?"

He can feel the blush creep up the back of his neck, but he shrugs it off while thinks about how long it's been since he and Megan broke up. "Seven months ago."

"Ugh, Megan," Bucky says hatefully. "What a bitch."

Steve sighs, but Bucky isn't wrong about her. He wouldn't come right out and use that word in regards to her, even if it's applicable.

"Who's Megan and why is she a bitch?" Darcy asks interestedly, pushing herself up so she's seated.

"Megan is my ex-girlfriend and things didn't exactly end amicably."

Bucky scoffs. "You're being way too nice, Steve. Megan is a horrible cunt who cheated on you. Remember?"

Darcy is flabbergasted upon hearing this information and she can't quite wrap her brain around that. She doesn't think that has anything to do with the tequila either. "What?" she asks incredulously. "Who the hell would cheat when they have you?"

Steve looks bashfully down at the floor before lifting his eyes to Darcy's again. She is looking back at him with a sweet smile on her face. It feels pretty damn great having that look directed at him. "Thanks, Darcy."

"I'm serious. You're probably the best guy I know and she's _dumb_. You want me to kick her ass?"

His brow quirks up and he grins down at her. "Is that you or the tequila talking?" he laughs.

Darcy shrugs one shoulder. "A little of both probably. Just say the word and I'll do it. I took down Thor by myself, so I'm sure I could handle your bitch ex-girlfriend."

Steve and Bucky exchange a pointed look. "Come again, Darcy?" Bucky asks. "You took who down now?"

"Thor. You know, God of Thunder. From The Avengers? Big, gorgeous blond guy who wields a big hammer."

"Uh, yeah, I know who you're talking about," Steve tells her. There's a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and he wonders just how much she knows. "How drunk are you right now?"

"Not _that_ drunk, smart guy," she replies, combing her fingers through her hair. "And I know him."

"You know Thor," Bucky repeats slowly.

"Yes, Barnes, that's what I said. I did an internship where I met my ex-best friend Jane in New Mexico. We were driving through the desert chasing this anomaly in the sky when a guy comes out of nowhere and I hit him with our van. I freaked out, naturally, because I thought I'd killed him or something. But he stood up, and he's, you know, fucking _enormous_, so I used my taser on him and _boom!_ Down he went like a ton of bricks."

"Darcy, you are drunk," Bucky says dismissively before glancing at Steve again with a raised brow.

"I am _not_. I am friends with Thor. Jane is _dating _him."

Steve's heard Thor talk about a Jane before but he's never met her. Now that he thinks about it, he's heard him say something about his friend Darcy before, too. This is just too strange a coincidence and he's starting to panic that she knows who he really is and what else she knows.

"Well, if you're friends with Thor maybe he can introduce you to your boyfriend, Captain America," Bucky laughs.

"Pfft. You don't think I've tried that already? He won't tell me," Darcy pouts and the room spins a bit. "Okay, maybe I am a little drunk," she admits. "Also, you are just mean for bringing up the Captain while my sex life is drier than the desert. _Mean_, Bucky Barnes! I really should go home and pass out." She holds up her hands and puts on what she hopes is her most adorable smile. "Help me up."

Bucky chuckles and pulls her to her feet. "There you are, doll face." She tips her head back to grin at him and sways a bit on her feet. He puts his hands on her shoulders to steady her. "Easy, tiger."

Darcy giggles and gives him a hug. "Thanks, Bucky."

She walks over to Steve and wraps her arms around his waist to hug him, too. He can feel the weight of Bucky's smirk without even looking up, but he ignores it and hugs Darcy back. "God, you're built like a brick house," she sighs, holding on a little longer. "Thanks for hanging out with me," she murmurs against his shirt.

"You're welcome," he answers with a smile on his lips.

Darcy unwraps her arms and steps back. She grabs her bottle of tequila off the coffee table and stumbles to the door.

"Yo, Darce?" Bucky calls before she's out the door.

"Yeah?" she asks, turning around.

"What would you do first if you had Captain America in your bed?"

Steve glares angrily at him and he wishes he could make his damn head explode.

Darcy bites her lip and laughs a little. "I'd sit on his face until he made me see stars. G'night, boys!" she yells, blowing them a kiss before slamming the door closed behind her.

Bucky collapses on the couch, laughing so hard he can barely breathe. "Have fun with those images in your head, Rogers," he chokes out.

Steve's sure he will because that image is now burned into his mind and his blood is rushing south. He grabs Bucky forcefully off the couch and pushes him towards the door. "Fuck off, Barnes. Go the hell home."

"You're welcome," Bucky taunts and laughs some more. "Enjoy your hand!" he yells as Steve slams the door in his face.

Steve huffs out a breath and hits his head against the door a few times.

He needs a cold shower.


	7. Fabulously Lazy

Darcy isn't amused when her phone rings the next morning and wakes her up. Her head is pounding and her eyes feel like sandpaper. She wants to break up with tequila forever. Cursing the existence of whoever is calling, she blindly fumbles for her phone on the nightstand. Her annoyance ebbs marginally when she squints and sees Steve's face and name on the display. "Hello?" she grumbles and her mouth feels like she's swallowed an entire pack of cotton balls.

"Morning, sunshine. How're you feeling?"

She groans and rubs her eyes. "Decidedly not awesome."

"Figured that might be the case. I have some things that could help if you let me in."

"Such as?" She finds her glasses and slips them on, blinking to clear her eyes.

"Gatorade, ibuprofen, coffee, and a breakfast sandwich from that place you like up the street."

Darcy moans appreciatively. "My hero. Give me five minutes."

She flinches when she looks at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is an utter disaster and last night's makeup is smudged around her eyes because she clearly forgot to wash her face when she got home. The combination of pulling her hair back into a ponytail, washing her face, and brushing her teeth goes a long way in helping her look and feel less terrible. She doesn't want to bother with a bra, so she grabs a sweatshirt and pulls that on instead.

"How are you not hungover?" she mumbles by way of greeting when she opens the door for Steve. He looks like he just stepped out of the pages of _Men's Health_ _Magazine _or something. It'd be annoying if he wasn't her friend and if he didn't have coffee and food in his hand.

Steve shrugs and gives her a lopsided grin. He holds out the coffee for her and she snatches it from his grip making him laugh. "Here are the rest of your supplies," he says and hands over a brown paper bag.

"Thanks, Steve. You're a lifesaver." She doesn't bother inviting him in. They're past that formality and they both know the other is welcome to come over and hang out whenever. She trudges over to the couch and sinks down into the cushions, burying her face into her cup of coffee to inhale the delicious aroma. Darcy sighs after swallowing the first sip. "Have I told you lately that you're my best friend?" she asks, smiling gratefully.

Steve chuckles and sits down. "You may have mentioned it." She's cute as hell first thing in the morning, which really isn't a surprise to him. Most things she does are cute or sexy and, well, it's kind of becoming a problem. He definitely thought about her as way more than a best friend last night while he had his hand wrapped around his dick and he imagined doing all the things she wants Captain America to do to her. It's getting to the point where's he's going to have to do something about his feelings for her.

He just doesn't know yet whether that will be taking a chance and acting on those feelings or shoving them aside and keeping her as his best friend. For now, he ignores that decision altogether and opens up the other bag he brought and pulls out his own sandwich. "What're your plans for the day?"

"You're lookin' at it," she says and takes a huge bite of her sandwich. She moans appreciatively while she chews. "I should edit, but I'm hungover as hell and I'm not going to. Wanna hang out with me and do nothing all day? We can have a movie marathon."

He smiles and settles back against the cushions. "Sounds great."

Darcy beams at him and takes a big gulp of her coffee. "How about some John Hughes movies?" she asks hopefully.

Steve has no idea what that means, so he agrees since that's obviously what Darcy wants to watch anyway. She puts down her sandwich and hops up off the couch to get a movie ready. It's a dumb move, and he knows he really shouldn't stare when she bends over to put in a DVD, but the criminally tiny shorts she's wearing ride up the backs of her thighs and he gets a peek of her emerald green panties. He's a man, not a saint. He covers his groan by taking a bite of his sandwich.

She turns around and laughs, "So good, right?"

She means breakfast, but he's thinking of the view when he answers, "Really good," because she doesn't know the difference.

"We'll start with _The Breakfast Club_," she says, settling back down on her end of the couch and stretching her legs out. "Seems appropriate right now." She turns on the movie and nudges his thigh with her foot. "Hey."

Steve angles his head and lifts an eyebrow in question. "Yes, Darcy?"

"Thanks for breakfast."

"You're welcome." They exchange smiles and settle in to watch the movie.

* * *

"What do you mean you've never played airplane?" Darcy asks some time later.

They've just finished watching _Sixteen Candles _and _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_ and she's been talking for the last little while about games she used to play when she was young. The look on her face is hilarious and fully incredulous. Steve grins and shrugs his shoulders carelessly. "Just never have," he answers. "How do you play?"

"How do you—are you kidding me? You really don't even know how to _play_? My brain cannot compute this, Steve. Oh, my god, okay." She stands up and pushes the coffee table out of the way to make room. "Lay down on the floor." She raises her brow and points to the floor when he gives her a suspicious look. "Go!"

Steve complies with her request because he's not likely to win this battle, for one, and for another, he's curious. He slides off the couch and lies on his back in the middle of the floor. "Now what?"

"Put your legs up. Just do it; it's fun. I still can't believe you've never played this in your life."

He feels a little foolish, but he does as he's told and lifts his legs straight up into the air.

"Okay, now you put your feet right here on me," Darcy instructs and points to her pelvis.

Steve's head comes off the floor. "Where?" It comes out a little strangled and he feels the tips of his ears go warm.

Darcy giggles. "You can't put them on my stomach because it hurts and I could throw up on you or something."

"This game grows less appealing by the second, Darce." He's fully skeptical and he's not hiding that fact.

"C'mon," she pouts a bit. "Don't you trust me?"

She has him there and he can tell by the look on her face that she knows it, too. He sighs and her smile grows bigger. "I do."

"Okay then. Put your feet right here." She moves them a fraction lower until she deems them to be in the correct spot. "Now, you hold my hands and push me up in the air with your feet."

Steve holds his hands up for her and she laces her fingers with his, and he can't focus on how great that feels right now or he's really going to do something he shouldn't, like letting her fall on top of him so he can kiss the breath out of her. "Like this?" he asks and lifts her quickly into the air, catching her by surprise, if the way she squeals is any indication.

"Yes!" she giggles down at him. "You got it, Steve."

He laughs because Darcy's smile is infectious and because this is fun, just like she said it would be.

"I'm going to let go of your hands and see if I can balance. Don't drop me," she warns, giving him a playfully stern look.

Steve grins. "Yes, ma'am." She giggles again and slowly lets go of his hands as she finds her balance. Her arms go straight out to the side like wings on a plane, which he supposes is sort of the point to a game called _airplane_.

"I feel like Baby right now," she says, tipping her head back.

Steve furrows his brow and asks, "You feel like a baby right now?" He's completely confused.

"No," she snorts. "Baby from _Dirty Dancing…_during the lift scene." Darcy glances down at him and sees that he has no clue what she's talking about. "_What_?" she squeaks and nearly falls, but Steve's hands quickly find hers and he keeps her from crashing down on top of him. "You don't get that reference either? Did you grow up under a rock?"

"More or less," he smirks.

"Sweet Lord. We've got another movie to watch today, then. Don't roll your eyes at me, mister. You love my awesome company. All right, this plane needs to land."

He lowers his legs slowly until her feet are down on the floor. "Well, that was fun."

"Oh, we're not done yet. It's your turn to be the plane, buddy."

"No way," he snorts and sits up. "You couldn't lift me off my feet."

"Bullshit, I totally can," she insists.

"No."

"Yes."

He chuckles when she glares at him. "No."

She folds her arms under and starts flapping them like wings, clucking like a chicken around the floor. "I can do this all day," she tells him and goes back to clucking.

Steve's tempted to see just how long she really will keep the chicken act up, but she raises the volume on her clucking exponentially and the only way to get her to stop is to give in and give her what she groans and pushes himself upright."Okay, okay. I'll do it. Just please stop your insane clucking."

"Yes!" She lies down on the floor and puts her legs and arms up into the air for him.

He arches a brow while she places her feet on his body. "If there's a crash landing, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Noted," she laughs and locks their fingers together. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be, I guess," he retorts dryly. He's genuinely surprised that she's able to lift him off the ground. When he looks down at her, she's got her lips pursed in an "I told you so"fashion.

"See, I got strongs, too," she teases. Her legs are feeling the burn already, though, because he's so much bigger than she is. He lets go of her hands to attempt to balance the way she had, but her legs wobble a bit and he starts to pitch forward. She swears that the look of surprise on his face right before he falls is the funniest shit she's ever seen.

Steve's thankful for his quick reflexes, because he manages to catch himself before the full weight of his body slams down on top of her. Darcy dissolves into a fit of laughter and he follows, because the whole scene is ridiculous. It becomes less funny when he realizes that he's pressed intimately between her legs and her hands are clutched at his shoulders while she laughs hysterically. He rolls off her immediately before things get embarrassing and he crosses a line of friendship that would be terribly difficult to get past.

"God, I can't breathe," she giggles. "Your face before you fell. I can't." Darcy covers her face and laughs until she has tears leaking out of her eyes.

He just lies on the floor and looks up at the ceiling, waiting on her to calm down and tell him what they're going to do next. She's bossy, but he likes that about her.

* * *

Steve forces her out of the apartment for a while when he takes Sarge for his afternoon walk. He tells her it's good for her to get some fresh air. Darcy disagrees because she doesn't want to put on a bra and real pants to leave the apartment on her lazy day, but he promises to buy her some ice cream and she can't very well say no to that. She reluctantly admits to him that the warm autumn sun feels good on her face once they're outside and he seems pretty self-satisfied about that, so she sticks her tongue out at him and shoves him on the shoulder.

They walk in companionable silence for a while and it's nice just spending the day doing nothing with him. Darcy always has fun when they're together. He somehow became her best friend and person when she wasn't looking and it surprises her a bit because they haven't known each other all that long. She doesn't question it though, because while she loves this city so much, it can be a lonely place; she hasn't felt lonely since Steve moved across the hall.

"Wasn't I promised ice cream?" she asks after a few blocks and he chuckles under his breath.

"I believe I made that promise, yes," he grins. "Can you survive a couple more blocks?"

Darcy sighs dramatically, "If I must."

She pulls out her phone to check her e-mail because she hasn't done so all day and she might have clients with questions that need answering. Scrolling through the new messages, she doesn't see any that need to be replied to immediately. There is one e-mail from a name that rings a bell when she sees it in her inbox. It's from a little gallery in DUMBO that put two of her shots on the wall. She feels a little nervous when she clicks the e-mail because she has no idea what to expect. It takes her three tries reading the message before the meaning finally sinks into her brain.

Both of her pictures _sold_ and the gallery wants to discuss the possibility of giving her a show.

"Oh, my god!" she exclaims.

Steve stops and turns to look at her. "What's wrong?"

Darcy laughs and bounces excitedly on the sidewalk and Sarge revels in her sudden enthusiasm. "Nothing. I just sold two of my photos in a gallery and the owner wants to bring me in and discuss the possibility of giving me my own show." She claps her hands and throws her arms around Steve's neck to hug him. "I can't believe it!"

Steve wraps her up in a tight hug that lifts her off her feet. "That's amazing, Darcy," Steve says warmly. "I'm so proud of you."

She pulls back so she can see his face and grins. "Thank you! I'm kinda proud of me right now, too." He sets her back down on the ground and loops her arm through his.

"Just think, I have a Darcy Lewis original of Sarge in my apartment. I wonder how much that'll sell for when you become famous," he grins and it makes her laugh.

"For that comment and for generally being awesome, Steve, I'll buy the ice cream today."

"Deal."


	8. Falling Slowly

The Alley Cat is dead except for the handful of regulars Darcy's fairly certain singlehandedly keep the doors of this establishment open. Everyone has drinks and the bar is well-stocked and clean, so she finds herself bored for a change. She's mulling over some ideas for her possible gallery show when the door opens and Jane walks inside. This is the first time she's seen her in a month. Jane practically lives in the lab and Darcy's been avoiding her because she's still annoyed over that awful blind date her "friend" set her up with.

Jane marches directly towards her and dumps her purse on the bar. "You can't stay mad at me forever, you know," she snaps in lieu of a normal greeting.

Darcy frowns and folds her arms over her chest. It's just like Jane to come in and start demanding things. "Hello, Judas, welcome to The Alley Cat," she says dryly. "What can I get you?"

"Darcy," Jane sighs. "I'm sorry about the bad date. It was a co-worker's son and the way she talked him up made him sound really great."

She snorts derisively. "Of _course _his mother would talk him up. She has a failure-to-launch situation on her hands and wants that loser out of her house, I'm sure."

Jane chokes out a laugh. "I'm really sorry. Don't be mad at me."

"I have a new best friend now," Darcy shrugs. She's being a brat, she knows, but sometimes she really feels like Jane only cares about their friendship when it's convenient and that's pretty shitty.

"Yes, I know," Jane says tightly. "You mentioned that on several voicemails and texts that night of the bad date. But I came here tonight with a peace offering and I am hoping I can move up on your list again."

Darcy eyes the woman dubiously though she is definitely curious. "It'll have to be one hell of a peace offering, Dr. Foster."

"Ouch," Jane cringes. "You are pissed."

"If you think this all has to do with that bad blind date then you really aren't as smart as you think you are. Excuse me; I have to go refill Jonesy's whiskey." Darcy turns and walks to the other end of the bar to take care of her regulars.

She's probably being a little too hard on Jane and perhaps she should listen to what the woman has to say. "Okay," Darcy sighs when she returns to stand in front of her friend. "I'm being a bigger bitch than this situation requires. What is this peace offering, then?"

"There's a children's charity event next week and Pepper Potts needs a photographer. I recommended you."

Darcy arches an eyebrow. "I appreciate the job, but I really need to work on—"

"Captain America will be there," Jane interrupts.

"Shut. The. Front. Door!" Darcy yells and giggles like the school girl she hasn't been for ages while jumping up and down behind the bar. "You sure do pull out the big guns when necessary."

Jane shrugs and gives her a warm smile. "I missed my friend and I know I screwed it up. I'm sorry, Darcy."

"Thank you. I'm sorry, too. Just please promise me you won't try and set me up again. Ever."

"I promise," Jane says so solemnly they both burst into giggles. "I also promise to make more time for you and not be such a shitty friend."

"You're not a shitty friend, Jane, you just…I don't know, need to make room for things other than science from time to time and that should include me. Deal?"

Jane nods and smiles brightly. "Deal."

"Alright, let's hug it out." Darcy holds her arms open and leans across the bar to wrap them around her petite friend. "How long do you suppose it will take to make Captain America fall in love with me at this thing?" Darcy asks when she pulls away from the hug. Jane laughs and shakes her head.

"Go fetch me a drink, bar wench," Jane teases with a wave of her hand, and Darcy does an exaggerated curtsey.

* * *

It's almost closing time and the only person left in the bar is ol' faithful Jonesy. He never misses last call. Darcy slaps his bill down on the bar in front of him with a cup of coffee. "That ain't whiskey," he grumbles, but slides the cup closer, lifts it to his lips.

"Good eye, Jones. Now, drink up and go home," Darcy orders, walking away to stack all of the chairs and barstools on the tables.

The front door opens and Darcy rolls her eyes; there's no way she's keeping the bar open even one minute past scheduled and this person needs to go away. "We're closed," she hollers, turning over a barstool. Okay, so technically they're not closing for another fifteen minutes, but this person doesn't need to know that.

"M'not drinkin'," Steve says casually. "Just here to see a woman about a dog." He folds his arms across his chest and stands in the doorway, watching Darcy with an amused smile.

Darcy turns around, a smirk over her full lips, and feels her bad mood ebb away. "Hey, stranger!" Her smirk turns into a full-fledged grin as Steve walks through the bar. Christ, the gray Henley shirt he's wearing fits him like skin and defines his exceptional muscles. It's really not fair that he always looks so damn good. She meets him in the middle, laughing when he unexpectedly lifts her off her feet in a crushing hug.

Steve swings her around playfully, nose buried in her hair to drink in the apple scent of her shampoo, before setting her back down again. She laughs up at him, this big, bright sound, blue eyes sparkling happily. "Hey, Darce," he grins.

"Missed you, big guy," she tells him, swatting his stomach with the back of her hand before walking behind the bar. "As for your dog—you've been gone for two weeks. I'm _pretty sure_ Sarge loves me more than you. Just sayin'."

Steve sits down on a barstool. "That so?" he chuckles.

"Mhmm," she nods. Darcy rests her elbows on the bar, cocks her head to the side, and smiles at him. Not for the first time does she think how unfair it is that he has such long, thick eyelashes that she'd kill for. "Can I get you anything?"

"Nah, I'm good. Just came to see you." He shrugs and gives her a slow, lazy smile that crinkles the corners of his blue eyes.

There's a weird flip in her belly accompanied by a wave of butterflies and she's not sure what to make of that. Darcy tamps those feelings down and gives him another friendly smile. "Well, I'm glad you did, Rogers. How'd everything go? Did you get the bad guys?"

Steve barks out a laugh and briefly glances down at the bar before meeting Darcy's amused stare again. "Yeah. Yeah, I got some bad guys, Darce."

Darcy clasps her hands together and tucks them playfully under her chin. "My hero. Oh!" she exclaims, slapping her palm down on the bar. "Speaking of, I have _very _exciting news!"

Her enthusiasm makes him laugh and whatever is responsible for that look on her face, he can't wait to hear. "I'm intrigued."

Jonesy staggers over, fumbling for his wallet. "Hold that thought," Darcy says. "Want me to call you a cab, Jones?"

"The train'll do, thanks," he answers gruffly and tosses a few bills onto the bar. "See ya next time, sweetheart."

"Goodnight," Darcy calls after him. She calculates her meager tip and frowns. "Cheap bastard," she mutters.

Steve gives her a sympathetic look. "Rough night?"

"Slow night," she corrects, shaking her head. "Lousy tips. I need a beer. You want a beer?"

"I've got beer at my place. Why don't I help you with these chairs and then we can get some food, hang out, maybe watch a movie? Unless you're too tired—I just—you usually like to unwind after working the bar."

There's that stirring again, and her lips curve slowly. "Yes. Best offer I've had all week."

"It's only Tuesday," he tosses back, a crooked grin on his face, watching her walk around from behind the bar.

Darcy rolls her eyes and chokes out a dry laugh. "For that lame joke you have to earn my exciting news. Better start stacking, pretty boy."

Steve smirks and arcs a brow at her. "You think I'm pretty?"

"The prettiest," she teases, batting her eyelashes playfully.

He grins and pushes up off the barstool. "Bet I can stack these chairs faster than you."

Darcy snorts and pats him on the cheek. "Oh, Steve, you say that like I'm going to try and win. It is a good thing you're pretty."

Steve grabs her wrist and spins her, looping his left arm around her shoulders, and proceeds to give her a noogie. Darcy squeals his name, laughing and wriggling to get free of his grasp. He laughs and lowers his right hand, keeping his left arm wrapped firmly around her, and tickles her ribs.

"Steve!" she squeals again, but he is undeterred in his efforts to tickle her. "Stop it, you're hurting me!" And just as quickly as he'd grabbed her he drops his hands and takes a deliberate step back from her.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Darcy," he says soberly. "I was just playing—"

Darcy turns around and the corner of her mouth ticks up impishly. "Sucker!" she taunts.

Steve blows out a relieved breath, grateful he didn't actually hurt her. Sometimes his strength gets the better of him even though he always holds back. "Dirty pool, Darce," he tells her.

She winks and sets to turning over chairs.

* * *

"So—?" Steve asks as Darcy turns the last lock on The Alley Cat and dumps the keys in her oversized bag.

Darcy shivers and reaches for the zipper of her black leather jacket, wishing she'd grabbed a scarf before she left her apartment. She knows what he's after, but she's having fun dragging out the suspense of her news. He tried guessing while they were stacking chairs, but her lips remained sealed. "Yeah?" she asks, one eyebrow cocking up.

Steve rolls his eyes. "C'mon! Your big news—let's hear it."

She smirks and starts walking; Steve quickly falls in step beside her. "Jane stopped in tonight."

"That's your big news?" he asks, disappointed.

Darcy giggles and hip checks him. He staggers a little on his feet, but since he's roughly the size of a truck, she's fairly certain he did that just to humor her. "No, wise guy, it isn't. As I was saying, Jane came by and apologized. We're friends again."

Steve smiles down at her as they wait at a crosswalk. It was about time. "Happy to hear that. You missed her, even if you didn't wanna admit it."

She stares at him, blinking slowly, her insides going all swimmy over how well he's come to know her. Her lips curve and she nudges him with her elbow.

"What was that for?" he asks.

"How well you know me," she says softly. Darcy shrugs and turns her eyes forward, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's nice." The light changes and they cross the street in comfortable silence. "Anyway," she starts up again once they're on the sidewalk, "Jane came with a peace offering. She scored me a photography gig next week and guess who's gonna be there!"

"No idea," Steve says evenly, though from the excitement in her voice, he can take a pretty good guess. "Captain America?"

"Yes!" she all but shouts, bouncing on the balls of her feet in front of him. "Captain America! Can you believe it?" Darcy throws back her head and lets out an enthusiastic _whoop _that dissolves into raucous laughter.

Steve finds her excitement infectious and laughs at the little dance she's doing as they round the corner to their street. There's a tiny part of him that's nervous about it, worried that she might recognize him and get pissed for all he hasn't told her about himself. It's not that he doesn't want to tell her who he is, he does, absolutely, and she's the first person he's trusted enough outside his team to keep his secret. But the bitch of it all is his feelings for her and her crush on his alter ego.

He wants her to want Steve Rogers.

His secret will keep a little longer.

"C'mon, Darce," he says, grabbing her hand to pull her along. "You can go crazy for Cap later. I wanna get home and see my dog."

* * *

Darcy plops down next to Steve on his couch and passes him the big bowl of popcorn. "What are we watching?" he asks, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"Friday the 13th. It's truly cheesetastic and terrible."

He huffs out a laugh. "Then why are we watching it?" he asks skeptically.

She grabs a handful of popcorn and smiles. "Because sometimes it's fun to just hate-watch movies or shows and openly mock them."

"If you say so," he shrugs. "What's it about?"

"Camp counselors being stalked and murdered by a chainsaw-wielding-hockey-mask-wearing psycho."

"Sounds great," he retorts sarcastically.

"Don't worry, Steve. If the movie gets too scary for ya, you can just hold my hand," she teases.

A slow grin sneaks its way across Steve's face and his eyes flick down to where her hand rests on her thigh. "Good to know," he murmurs. He wraps a hand around hers and laces their fingers together.

Her hand warms in his and she swallows the imaginary lump in her throat before turning wide eyes his direction. "Steve," she says hoarsely. Her heart is hammering so hard in her chest she can't hear anything over the roar of it, and it feels like her stomach is doing gymnastics.

Steve whispers her name, eyes glancing down at her lips and back up again. His eyes are so warm and blue as he leans in closely. She sucks in a breath and shuts her eyes. A shiver runs the length of her spine when his lips land on hers. His other hand curves gently around her jaw, fingertips brushing against her earlobe as he licks into her mouth. Her foot tickles and she tries to shake it off, focusing instead on her first kiss with Steve. The sensation in her foot doesn't stop. Reluctantly, she pushes at Steve's chest and turns her head.

Darcy's eyes blink open and it takes her a second to get her bearings. She's definitely not in her bed or even her apartment, and her pillow is most definitely Steve-shaped, his arm a warm, sure weight draped around her middle, hand pressed low against her back. _What the hell?_ Her foot tickles again and she angles her head, sees Sarge sitting up and licking her foot. "Sarge!" she hisses. The dog stops and bows his head.

It's early still, given the dim light that's just starting to filter through the room. She's half asleep and disoriented and very much curled up next to Steve on the couch with their legs tangled together. He sighs in his sleep, his breath a warm tickle against her neck. The last thing she remembers is sitting next to Steve watching the movie, both of them laughing and yelling at the idiot characters to run. She'd been tired, sure, but…how did she go from that to having dreams about kissing her best friend and waking up next to him. _Seriously. What the hell?_

What she needs to do is go home and sleep and avoid any potentially awkward conversations with Steve that could upset the balance of their friendship. She tries to slowly extricate herself out of Steve's arms, being extra careful not to wake him. Steve shifts and pulls her closer. "Darcy," he murmurs and buries his nose in her hair. Her heart skips and the butterflies she felt last night in the bar are back in full force. _Uh oh_.

She tells herself to get up and leave.

She snuggles closer and goes back to sleep.


	9. Something Good This Way Comes

Steve stirs awake slowly at Sarge's persistent licking of the back of his hand. That's his tell that he'd like to be walked and as soon as possible. He cracks open one eye, sees a tumble of glossy brown curls curtaining smooth pale skin. Darcy. His lips curve up into a sleepy smile and he rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. She's plastered against him, fast asleep, her head pillowed on his arm, dark eyelashes fanning out over the tops of her cheekbones. With each slow, even breath she takes, her breasts press into his chest, making every nerve ending in his body spark like live wires. She's beautiful in sleep, well, all the time, really, but he likes that he has a moment to watch her like this, up close and peaceful, unguarded. Her full pink lips are pursed invitingly and he is sorely tempted to close the scant distance between them and kiss her awake. Darcy lets out a soft little hum after that and rubs her lips together, his eyes tracing the movement. Shifting her leg higher between his, her thigh presses against the semi he woke up with. Shit.

It's fucked how stupid he is for her.

Sarge whimpers and thumps his tail on the floor, and Steve sighs, knowing he has to move but not at all wanting to. He doesn't have the heart to wake her nor the desire to embarrass himself with the erection in his jeans, so he moves as carefully as he can to extract himself from her embrace on the couch. A little whiny moan escapes her lips and she rolls onto her other side, tucking her hands underneath her cheek. The dog pants happily once Steve's feet hit the floor and he turns in circles on the hardwood. "Be quiet, buddy," he whispers. Steve grabs the blanket draped over the arm of the couch and covers Darcy with it. She hums quietly again and snuggles further under the blanket.

His dog makes a beeline for the door and gives him a pitiful look when Steve walks past it for the bathroom instead. "Sorry, Sarge. M'gonna need a few minutes." Sarge whimpers and flops to the floor, resting his head on his paws, and blinking at Steve. He doesn't know which is worse, telling his dog he needs to jerk off or the judgmental look he receives in return.

Ugh, he doesn't want to think about it.

* * *

The room is much brighter when she wakes up again, alone this time, and Darcy quickly gives herself a mental bitch slap for the fleeting feeling of disappointment over it. There's a blanket covering her that definitely wasn't there earlier; she thinks it's sweet that Steve covered her up, but that's him. He's sweet.

It's too quiet in his apartment and she quickly deduces that she's alone in the space. Sitting up, she kicks off the blanket and swings her legs around. There's a note on the coffee table with her name on it. She reaches for it and reads.

_Went for a run with Sarge – didn't want to wake you. Bringing coffee and breakfast with me. Back soon. _

_-SR_

Darcy smiles and reads the note again, a warm, liquid pull in her stomach as she does. "What am I gonna do about you, Steve Rogers?" she mutters as she pushes to her feet and pads towards the bathroom. She doesn't have any time to ponder that question because the front door opens and in walks Steve with Sarge. "Hey," she says, hoping she's not actually gawking at him or his sweaty t-shirt and damp hair.

"Mornin'," he replies. "I got breakfast burritos."

"You're awesome. Be right there." Darcy tosses over her shoulder and walks into the bathroom.

Steve grins and hangs up Sarge's leash on the hook by the front door. "Don't look at me like that, Sarge," he orders when he turns around to find man's best friend staring at him with his head angled to the side. "C'mon, boy, it's breakfast time for you, too." Sarge barks once and scampers off into the kitchen.

Darcy finds them both in the kitchen and she makes grabby hands for the coffee on the counter. "Gimme!"

"Did you wake up without your manners?" Steve asks with a crooked smirk, picking up the cup and keeping it purposely out of her reach.

"I don't have manners before coffee," Darcy informs him. Steve snorts and nudges her shoulder. "Ew, gross! Don't rub your sweat on me," she whines, wrinkling her nose and snatching the coffee out of his grasp. She's not really bothered by his sweat, but whining at him is better than doing something stupid about it like, burying her nose in the crook of his neck or nipping at the hinge of his jaw. Whatever. He's her best friend and feelings are stupid. Darcy takes a sip of coffee and flicks her eyes to his face, sees that he's watching her in amusement. "Sorry," she says softly over the rim of her cup. "Thank you for breakfast, Steve."

Steve shrugs and lifts his own cup to his lips. "No sweat."

Darcy barks out a sharp laugh. "That was _terrible_. Don't quit your day job."

Steve flashes a mischievous grin, grabbing the paper sack with their burritos and walking over to the couch. "I'm funny and you know it."

"Sure," she drawls, rolling her eyes and plopping down next to him on the couch. "Can't wait to get tickets for your comedy tour. When do they go on sale?"

He narrows his eyes and playfully flicks her on the thigh. "Now you're just bein' a brat. Drink your coffee."

Darcy makes a derisive sound in the back of her throat. "Whatever, Steve. I'm delightful and you adore me."

"No argument there," he says evenly and passes her a burrito.

* * *

Her stomach is in knots when she walks into the hotel ballroom the night of the children's charity event, aka the night she gets to be in the same room with, and hopefully meet, Captain America. She changed her outfit three times before leaving her apartment, which is absurd seeing as she is wearing her professional photographer attire. Tonight is black pants and a pretty cream colored short sleeve top. It's rather boring and not what she would have imagined wearing when she got to meet her celebrity crush, but her chest looks pretty amazing in the shirt she's wearing – without a single speck of cleavage showing, thank you very much – so she's not going to split hairs.

Darcy sees a tall, slim redhead she assumes is Pepper Potts striding purposefully towards her wearing a beautiful white suit she's sure cost more than all of her wardrobe put together and puts on her best smile.

"Darcy Lewis, I presume?" Pepper asks.

"You presume correctly," Darcy answers and offers the woman her hand.

"I'm Pepper Potts," she says, firmly shaking Darcy's hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Potts. Thank you for this opportunity."

"You came highly recommended from Dr. Foster. Let me tell you what I expect tonight," she says and starts walking briskly across the ballroom.

Darcy hitches her equipment bag higher on her shoulder and hurries after her.

* * *

Steve's waiting backstage at the benefit for his name to be announced so he can go out and make a speech before a meet-and-greet with the guests. Normally he hates these things; they remind him too much of his days as a performing monkey during WWII. But tonight is different. It's a benefit for a children's hospital and there are kids in attendance with their parents. He loves kids and seeing the wonderment on their small faces when they meet one of The Avengers is a definite perk to the job. It reminds him of the innocence that he fights to protect and he needs that reminder every now and then.

He's also looking forward to messing with Darcy a little and seeing what her reaction will be to meeting Captain America. It's not _all _she's talked about for the last week, but he finally stopped counting the number of times she mentioned getting to meet "her boyfriend" or "future husband" after a while. Her excitement about it was pretty cute, and since he's the guy she's been going on and on about, he let himself be flattered by it rather than annoyed that the girl he wants has an enormous crush on someone else.

His name is announced and that's his cue. He takes a deep breath, puts on his best Captain America smile, and takes the stage.

* * *

Darcy has her camera trained on the stage when he comes out and her breath catches in her throat seeing him through the lens the first time. Her heart is racing and—this is just ridiculous, is what it is. She's a grown ass woman and a professional photographer; she doesn't have time for these butterflies in her belly over a hot man in a blue suit. "Get a grip," she mutters softly to herself and focuses on the work she's being paid _very well_ to do.

She crouches down and snaps a great shot of a small boy sitting on his father's lap watching Captain America give his speech; his entire face is lit up like Christmas and it's utterly precious. Darcy laughs under her breath; she knows exactly how this kid feels. The good captain is speaking about the advancements of medical research being made at the children's hospital and how important it is for everyone to donate. His voice is captivating and deep and–_Christ –_so sexy, and she really should be ashamed for thinking so while he's garnering donations for a pediatric cancer wing. She's kinda not though.

Everyone in the room loves him and she can see them hanging on every word of his moving speech. There's rousing applause when he's finished speaking and she heads to the back of the room where he'll be signing autographs and getting pictures taken with the guests to set up her equipment.

Darcy's checking the light and makes a few adjustments to the settings on her camera when she feels a hand on her shoulder. Darcy glances over and sees Pepper with Captain America beside her. "Oh," she says dumbly. She whirls around and nearly knocks over her tripod with her $4,000 camera attached. Captain America lunges forward and catches the equipment before it crashes to the ground. She's eternally grateful for the low light in the ballroom because her face flushes hotly and she knows her cheeks are red. No words come out of her mouth. She just stands there, blinking like an idiot, while this man sets up her tripod.

"There you go," he grins.

Jesus. Captain America just _grinned_ at her and kept her favorite camera from falling on the floor and all she can think of is how beautiful he is and how she'd like to just, like, rub her face all over his face, and maybe have his children. She's utterly ridiculous. "Thanks," she manages weakly and blushes again.

"Miss Lewis, I'd like you to meet Captain America," Pepper smiles warmly.

Captain America holds out his hand and gives her a friendly smile; his eyes are so blue and mesmerizing beneath his mask. She shakes his hand and her stomach does an excited flip and she _swears_ she can actually _hear _her heart beating. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he tells her in that deeply sexy voice of his that is doing its level best to melt her panties.

"You, too, Captain," she breathes out, still shaking his hand. He looks down at their joined hands and laughs under his breath. "Sorry," she winces, letting go and dropping her hand down in a fist at her side. "It's just—I'm—big fan."

"Miss Lewis," Pepper says evenly, mercifully interrupting the train wreck that she's quickly becoming. "Let's get Cap into place so we can get the guests through the line."

"Absolutely," Darcy replies, feeling her professionalism slowly seeping back. "Would you mind, um, going over there? I need to check the light with you in the shot."

"Sure thing, Miss Lewis," he says with a nod.

"Darcy," she exclaims and instantly cringes at her awkwardness.

"Sorry?" he laughs.

"My name. It's—it's Darcy. You can call me that."

A slow smile spreads across his face. "Darcy, then," he says. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."

Darcy lets out an absolutely ridiculous giggle and claps a hand over her mouth. She stares at him in wide-eyed embarrassment, and he's kind enough to smile politely and act as though he's not afraid of ending up with a bunny boiling on his stove if he continues talking to her. "I'm sorry," she says to him and repeats the same to Pepper, who is staring at her like she does _not_ have time for this bullshit.

She looks through her camera and does a few test shots, making a couple minor adjustments before nodding to Pepper that she's ready. Miss Potts gives her a cool, tight smile and walks away. God, she's making a fool of herself all the way around this evening.

Captain America gives her an encouraging smile that makes her knees feel a bit wobbly, to be honest. She smiles softly in return, not saying anything in fear of further making an ass of herself. The first kid in line walks up to the table and it's easy to sink into her work watching this towheaded little boy staring in awe at his hero.

"Hi there, what's your name?" Captain America asks kindly. There's a brilliant smile on his face as he greets the kid.

"Gabe," the boy answers.

"Gabe, huh? One of the bravest men I've ever known was named Gabe. I bet you're brave, too." He is a natural with kids, and little Gabe is so excited he's practically vibrating.

"Uh huh. My daddy says I'm getting big and strong. See!" Gabe flexes his arms, and Darcy laughs quietly behind her camera. Cap feels Gabe's arm and exclaims he can't believe how strong he is, tells him The Avengers may call him up if they ever need another pair of strong hands. Gabe's jaw drops and the Captain autographs one of the posters on the table. They pose for a picture and Darcy snaps a couple. She grins at the two and Gabe whirls away to his parents like an elated tiny tornado.

Captain America winks—he fucking _winks _at her—before turning his attention to the next child in line. Jesus, this is the best day _ever_.

* * *

Steve signs his last autograph for the night and waves goodbye to Tommy and his parents as they walk away from the table. He watches Darcy pack up her camera equipment with a smile tugging at his lips. This side of her is so different than the one he sees on a regular basis and he doesn't know if that's because she's working or because she's nervous being around Captain America. "You can ask for an autograph if you want one, you know," he teases. She startles and arches an eyebrow at him over her shoulder. "I have posters left."

"Well, then," she begins, a small smile on her lips as she turns around and tucks her hair behind her ears, "I want one." Darcy isn't foolish enough to believe Captain America is actually flirting with her, but she likes knowing he has a playful side. And _obviously_ she wants a personalized autographed Captain America poster. If she's already mentally planned out a place in her apartment to frame and hang it, no one could blame her.

He grins and pulls the cap off the silver Sharpie to sign the poster. He writes a message and slides it across the table when he's finished, smiling at her beneath his mask.

_To Darcy_, _It was a genuine pleasure meeting you this evening. Best wishes with your photography. Sincerely, Captain America_

Darcy's cheeks flame red again when she reads what he wrote and she feels way too much like that eleven year old girl going bananas over 'NSync she'd once been. "Thanks, Captain," she says nervously.

"You're welcome, ma'am," he nods.

"Can I—will you sign another one? Please."

"Of course. Who should I make it out to?"

"Steve," she answers.

He tamps down every urge to show surprise or smile, and signs the poster. "Boyfriend?" he asks casually. This is such a dumbass idea on his part. As soon as Darcy finds out who he is she's liable to cut his balls off, but this is a great opportunity to get some insight on her feelings and he's not going to waste it.

"No," Darcy answers quickly. "I mean, yes. No. _Jesus_." She huffs and rubs her temples. "He's a boy and he's a friend. My best friend." If the earth could open up and swallow her whole right about now, she'd prefer it to babbling nonsense to Captain fucking America.

Steve smiles and snaps the cap back on the marker. "Okay," he replies slowly. "You look like maybe you have more on your mind. Wanna talk about it?"

She barks out a laugh, because seriously? Captain America is asking about her problems. Is this real life? "We slept together," she blurts and feels her face blowing right on past pink straight to tomato red. He's just sitting there, staring silently at her while she word vomits all over him. If there was ever a time in her life she's been more embarrassed than right fucking now, she can't recall it. "Oh, god," she slaps her forehead, eyes squeezing shut against the humiliation. "I mean, we fell asleep together. We didn't, you know—have _sex._" She whimpers pathetically. "Just shut up, Darcy," she mutters.

Steve's lips twitch and he has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He knows she's embarrassed—and _fuck_ she's going to be _so _mad at him when she learns the truth—but she looks so goddamn cute all flushed and flustered. "Well—"

Darcy's powerless against the word vomit and barrels right on over him. "It was late and we fell asleep watching a terrible movie. No biggie, right?"

"Uh, right," he answers.

"But it's weird."

His stomach sinks. The last thing he wants is for things to be weird between them. "How so?"

"Because I dreamt about kissing him and now I'm all—" she trails off and waves her hands around, searching for the right words, "I dunno, I'm all twisty inside. It's stupid."

"Why's it stupid?"

Pepper walks over at that moment and hands Darcy an envelope. "Thank you for your services, Ms. Lewis. I look forward to seeing the shots you captured this evening."

Darcy smiles politely and nods. "Thank you again for the opportunity. I should have the proofs to you on Monday." She leans in towards Pepper and lowers her voice. "I'd also like to apologize for having a fangirl moment." To her surprise, Pepper laughs.

"It happens. Have a good evening. Captain, your car is waiting."

"Thank you, Pepper." Pepper excuses herself to answer a call and walks away. Steve stands and offers Darcy a smile. "Very nice meeting you, Darcy," he tells her.

Darcy chokes out a laugh. "I don't know how that could possibly be true with all the crazy I dumped on you, but thanks for saying that. Great meeting you, Captain America. Thanks for the posters."

"You're welcome," he says, turning to leave. He stops and turns halfway around. "Good luck with your friend. I hope things work out the way you want them to." She says nothing, just watches him walk out of the ballroom before gathering up her equipment.

* * *

She's almost home when her phone rings. It's Steve, and Darcy grins down at his picture on the display. "Hey," she says.

"Hi, Darce. You an' Captain America on your way to Atlantic City or are you still coming out with us tonight?"

Darcy laughs. "Nah, he didn't even have a ring. The nerve! I'll meet you guys soon. I just need to drop my stuff off and change first."

"Good," he answers. "Can't wait to see you."

Those damn butterflies are back and she decides it's time to maybe do something about them. "See ya soon, Steve."


End file.
